Harry Potter : Hunter
by Andor Swiftblade
Summary: After the DoM Mayhem, Harry decides that he is tired of the Dursleys and figures that he wants to take a unique summer job. Follow him as in his bid for freedom, he has the adventure of a lifetime. Post OotP. Probably AU. Might include crossovers.
1. Hunter

**Harry Potter – Hunter**

**By : Andor Swiftblade**

**Disclaimer** : Harry Potter belongs to the beautiful blonde lady famously known as J K Rowling. No monetary gain is being made from this story. Any non-Canon characters belong to me. Certain creative terms which have been used probably belong to some of my brilliant fellow fan fiction authors. (I don't really know to whom, so please forgive me.)

**Summary** : After the DoM Mayhem, Harry decides that he is tired of the Dursleys and figures that he wants to take a unique summer job. Follow him as in his bid for freedom, he has the adventure of a lifetime. Post OotP. Probably AU. Might include crossovers.

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_**You are free to choose, but the choices that you make today will determine your tomorrow.**_

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*** * * * * Chapter 1 * * * * ***

***|* Hunter *|***

On a particularly hot and sunny day in the summer holidays, everyone who could avoid being outside in the sweltering heat were taking refuge in their houses and had their air conditioning units switched on at full power to keep themselves relatively cool. Those who did not have such provisions had to make do with their ceiling fans and table fans. One such individual was lying on his bed reading his book in the particularly boring neighborhood of Privet Drive.

Inside the smallest bedroom of Number Four Privet Drive, a nearly-sixteen year old Harry Potter was lying down on his old bed with a book that he was currently reading, which he had 'borrowed' from the Hogwarts Library for 'a bit of light reading during the holidays', as Hermione would say. Said book was on a topic that interested him, and he wanted to be thinking about something positive for once in his life. The book was titled "A Future In The Wizarding World" and was written by a man called William Patstick, who was a special consultant in a private firm for job application. Every possible job opportunity was mentioned inside the book in alphabetical order and the book also provided contact information for every job listed.

Harry was reading the book and was trying to find a good job that particularly suited him and gave him some amount of freedom and anonymity. After his last year at Hogwarts and the treatment he was given there, especially from the Minister and his pet toad, Harry had decided that he no longer wanted to be an Auror for the Ministry and continue to put his life at risk for the idiots of the Wizarding World. Professional Quidditch was an option that he had considered to be very tempting; that was until he read in the book that according to the standard contract drawn for every player, a Professional was obliged to sign autographs and that he had to do some showmanship before and after a match, on the pitch as well as outside the pitch. After reading that, any thought of playing Professional Quidditch flew out of his mind faster than a Firebolt.

After reading about most of the respectable jobs mentioned in the book, Harry realized that even if he decided to work as a Clerk in Shoe Shop, he would still be recognized and swarmed with idiots. So, after finally coming to the conclusion that none of these jobs suited him, Harry decided to pursue the section about the less reputable jobs.

When Harry read about one particular job mentioned in the book, he was a bit shocked. He didn't know that there were Hunters in the Wizarding World. He just thought that those existed only in the Muggle world and in movies and books. His interest was piqued as he wondered as to what magical Hunters did and he decided to read the section about Hunters.

**The Hunters**

_Many of you young readers will be surprised to know, but it is true that Hunters exist. Who else do you think procures all the potentially dangerous potions ingredients from creatures that have been classified by the Ministry of Magic's Department for the Regulation & Control of Magical Creatures as "Very dangerous"?_

_Gathering potentially dangerous ingredients is not the only job for Hunters. Anyone can hire a Hunter with a magically binding contract that can be obtained from the Hunters' Guild._

**¤ Basic Hunters' Guild Laws** :-

_» Anyone using the title of "Hunter" without a Hunter's License can be considered guilty of falsely using the name of an organization and the judgment of the individual's fate will be deferred to the Hunters' Guild. Even the Ministry cannot interfere with this particular law._

_» A Hunter is free from Ministry prosecution as the Hunters' Guild is an independent organization not answerable to any nation; even the International Confederation of Wizards (ICW) cannot arrest an official member of the Hunters' Guild without proper reason and a Guild-approved arresy warrent._

_» A Hunter's true identity is secret even form the Guild, and every hunter has their own personal codename that they work by._

**¤ How to become a Hunter** :-

_» The only information available for the qualification for a rank in the Hunters' Guild is that one has to write a letter to the Guild but not sign it with the name. Nothing else is known about how the Guild selects new Hunters from the applying candidates._

**¤ Note **:- _The Hunter profession is only for people with proper skill. As a dangerous and (many times) life-threatening job, the amount of money earned will also be much higher than any normal profession._

**¤ Warning** :- _The Hunter profession is not suited for everyone. The mortality rate for poorly trained Hunters is very high. This means that the senior members of the Hunters Guild are very good at what they do as they have persevered so long in such life-threatening conditions._

As Harry read the information provided in the book, there were myriad expressions on his face. First there was wariness, then happiness, again wariness and slowly the expression turned into a calculating one. He had always wanted to be free from the discrimination of the incompetent Ministry and its bigoted ways. This was an opportunity to be free of the Ministry for once and for all. But if he did so, he would have to risk his life.

'What to do? What to do . . . ?' Harry thought as he put the book on the nearly-broken table in his room. He continued to quietly pace around the room as he thought about what he would do. 'The job may be dangerous, but when is my life not so? I have to be on the lookout for when Voldemort or his sycophants attack anyway, so maybe this job will be safer than my life. It can also be considered as training for finally killing Voldemort. Dumbledore and the Order are just happy to lock me here and play their foolish games. How does that old coot think that I will kill Voldemort without any training? By hugging him to death?' Harry snorted quietly. 'At least the training will help me to dispose off the Moronic Munchers of ole Tommy Boy and at least weaken the Dork Lord so that someone can finally kill the idiot.'

'Then there is the matter of money. Though Mum and Dad left quite a bit in the Trust Vault, who known how much more I'd need in the future? I don't want to work for the Ministry so I'll probably have to find some other job free from Ministry control. Maybe I'll use business as a cover job while I do the Hunter work. Hermione said that the Potters were an old family so I might have some investments. Maybe I should ask the Goblins to show me if I've got some other Vaults in the bank. But I think this job is probably the best, as it gets me freedom and money as well.'

'I need to make plans. I can't rush half-cocked into things now. I have to carefully think things through before carrying through them. I'll follow the Sorting Hat's advice and use my Slytherin side for once in my life. I may save my life someday and it might also save others.'

As his train of thoughts shifted towards Sirius, Harry realized that he did not feel all that sad about his Godfather's death. He knew that Sirius was somewhat damaged from his imprisonment in Azkaban, even if he would not admit it out loud to anyone. The exposure to the horrible Dementors – the guards of the Azkaban prison – over the course of nearly twelve years had left its mark on Sirius. And then the entire last year, he was cooped up in that shabby old house with nothing to do and his only companion being the foul-mouthed portrait of his long deceased mother, a wretched old House Elf that had served the Black Family and went by the name of Kreacher, and some members of the Order that visited the Headquarters to submit their reports. From what he knew in general about Sirius and the Marauders was that they were extremely free-willed and fun loving, and he know that being ordered to stay indoors against their wishes would not sit well with them. And then there was the fact that his Godfather was now in a better place. (Right now he was probably in Heaven playing pranks on everybody along with his best friend James Potter while being scolded by the short-tempered Lily Potter.)

As his thoughts once again turned to the answer his mind derived as a solution for quite a lot of problems he would probably face some time in the near future, a phrase suddenly floated to the front of Harry's mind : Fortune sides with those who dare.

And that was when Harry remembered that he was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors were brave and courageous. He would tackle all the difficulties that lay in path with his Slytherin mind and Gryffindor heart. He decided that he would come out at the top one way or the other. He might have to maim or kill a few Death Munchers, but if that was all that was required to keep them from harming others, then he would gladly pay the cost, even if it damaged his soul.

He, Harry James Potter, would become a Hunter.

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**AN :** There is a poll for possible pairings on my profile page! Please vote!

If you enjoyed my story, then please review. Thank you.

May your sword stay sharp!


	2. A Thoughtful Evening

**Harry Potter – Hunter**

**By : Andor Swiftblade**

**Disclaimer** : Harry Potter belongs to the beautiful blonde lady famously known as J K Rowling. No monetary gain is being made from this story. Any non-Canon characters belong to me. Certain creative terms which have been used probably belong to some of my brilliant fellow fan fiction authors. (I don't really know to whom, so please forgive me.)

**Summary** : After the DoM Mayhem, Harry decides that he is tired of the Dursleys and figures that he wants to take a unique summer job. Follow him as in his bid for freedom, he has the adventure of a lifetime. Post OotP. Probably AU. Might include crossovers.

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**We learn more from our mistakes than from our successes.**

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**The errors of the past are the wisdom of the future.**

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**Take an interest in the future - that is where you are going to spend the rest of your life.**

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*** * * * * Chapter 2 * * * * ***

***|* A Thoughtful Evening *|***

That evening, Harry was eating dinner with his cousin Dudley and his Aunt Petunia. His Uncle Vernon Dursley was out on a business and Harry was not informed of when he would be back. Today they were having all of Dudley's favorite food, all of which were full of grease. This was his demand after his diet regimen was over. (The school nurses tried for one full year to reduce Dudley's body size, and only succeed in converting a little body fat into muscles. After that, even they had to give up.)

Dudley was, as usual, stuffing his face full of all the food he could eat at one time and his piggy little eyes were concentrated on the TV, which was a few feet away from the dining table. (The TV was in the sitting room a few days ago, but Dudley started whining about not being able to watch his favorite shows - which were aired during their usual dinner time - so the TV was shifted from its previous place to its current home.)

Harry was surprised that Dudley could multi-task; he just didn't seem to have enough brain power for that. (Harry always privately thought that Dudley was a 'pig-in-a-wig that was taught to walk on its hind legs' when they were children, but now that could not be applicable. Dudley now qualified as a baby blue whale with all that fat he had in his body. Dudley could be compared with Malfoy Junior's gorilla-like bodyguards who went by the name of Crabbe and Goyle, who shared a few brain cells between the two of them.) But then again, eating and watching the TV were both Dudley's favorite hobbies, so he would have tried very hard in order to carry out both the activities at the same time.

Aunt Petunia was sitting in what she thought was a poised and elegant manner (to Harry she just looked constipated), and was surveying her household for any sign of dust or dirt. For a clean freak like his Aunt, even a small mote of dust was considered as a personal insult to her cleaning skill and had to be destroyed. (Harry often wondered if he should just invite Voldemort and his Death Munchers one day for dinner, cover them with a lot of dirt and see what his Aunt Petunia would do to them for desecrating her house. They would be completely annihilated.)

Harry quickly and quietly finished his portion of the dinner (which was not much) so that he could return to his room and proceed with detailing his future plans. Just as he was about to get up to wash his hands and take his leave, the lights in the entire neighborhood went off and darkness descended upon the house.

Suddenly, Dudley let out a wail of anguish so loud that Harry thought he was being tortured. Aunt Petunia was shuffling around the room searching for God knows what in the darkness.

"Mum! The TV and lights! I can't see the food! Do something, Mum! I wanna see!" Dudley wailed loudly.

"Hush, Duddykins! (Harry snorted to himself) I think that some power cables probably melted due to the head. I'm trying to find some candles to light," Petunia said in her horribly annoying screeching voice, trying to calm her precious Dudders.

Harry heard the sound of a matchstick being lit and suddenly the room was bathed in the yellow glow of candle light as Petunia made a noise of triumph.

"This will do till the power comes back. I told Vernon to buy that new emergency lights, but no! 'There are no power cuts here, Petunia dear,' he says. He should have been here now so I could give him a good talking to about not listening to his wife's advice," Petunia muttered to herself, and continued doing so until Dudley spoke again.

"Mum! At least start the fan! I'm feeling very hot! Dudley wailed again from his seat at the table. He was sweating buckets because of the sudden lack of cool air supply, which made the entire room a bit warm, but he was fat, and fat people and warm places was not a good combination. To him, it was as if he was sitting in an oven.

"The candles will blow out!" Petunia exclaimed in reply to her sweating son's demand.

Harry had to try very hard to hold in his amusement at his relatives' stupidity and he quietly wondered to himself if they could get any more stupid.

"Aunt Petunia?" Harry called out softly. In response, Petunia shrieked loudly and nearly jumped through the roof. Harry had to stop himself from wincing at the unpleasant noise.

"What are you doing, idiotic child? Keep quiet! Are you trying to scare us?" Petunia hissed in anger.

"I just wanted to ask if I can return to my room," Harry said, more than a bit annoyed.

"Go!" she commanded imperiously, as if she was ordering her troops to the battlefield. Harry rolled his eyes and decided to quickly leave the table before he was caught in any more of this stupidity.

As he was walking up the stairs, carefully avoiding the creaky step just above the cupboard, Harry wondered whether stupidity was genetic or if it was infectious. To him both the cases seemed plausible. Living with Vernon and Dudley Dursley showed him that it was a genetic problem. Both were baby blue whales, both had similar mannerism and both had nearly identical personalities and looks that if not for the age difference, they could be mistaken for brothers. Both were a living proof that stupidity was a genetic problem.

But Harry had to wonder about his Aunt Petunia Dursley. She was the elder sister of Lily Potter nee Evans, who was said to be an extremely intelligent and bright student, sorted into Gryffindor House, who was the top of her class, and was also a Prefect and Head Girl during her seven years of study at Hogwarts. After Hogwarts, she was recognized as a Charms Mistress by many. She was also a capable dueler and was able to hold herself against Lord Voldemort - who was arguably one of the best dueler and an extremely knowledgeable and cunning person - not once, but three times. That had to count for something.

Looking at Petunia Dursley, one had to wonder if the woman was indeed the sister of Lily Potter. Petunia never showed any signs of what could be remotely considered as intelligence, except for her cleaning and household skills as well as her talent for spying on her neighbors for juicy gossip. She was just a common woman who had an occasional sharp-tongue that she never put to good use. It seemed to him that she did have brains, she just didn't use it. This just proved his point that stupidity was also infectious, because she was just wasting her useful talent in mindless gossiping.

Finally, Harry concluded that all the beauty and intelligence was passed to his Mum while the stupidity and ugliness was passed to his Aunt.

Snorting to himself, Harry entered the smallest room in Number Four Privet Drive, which was also what should be considered as his bedroom, his chain of thought derailed. Entering the room, he saw that the room was empty and concluded that his pet owl and familiar Hedwig was probably outside hunting for food. Looking at the window, which was only half open, he decided to open it fully so as to get the air in the room circulating. As he finally opened the window, a deceptively cool breeze entered the room, which surprised Harry to some extent. But he was only somewhat surprised. He was, after all, living in England, and here the weather changed like the mood of any person.

Harry ruminated if the weather pattern of England was in fact connected to the mood of some higher power. He reflected on England's constantly changing weather and finally surmised that whoever the higher deity responsible for England was, she was probably a female, which perfectly explained the mood swings of the unpredictable weather of his country.

As Harry caught on to the chain of thought which had been derailed upon entering the room, he contemplated that it was indeed true. The thought comforted him very much as it proved that he was somewhat resistant to the infectious stupidity of the Dursley family. He had initially been infected with some of the stupidity, but the shock of his Godfather's death had washed the stupidity away from him and freed his mind to the real world. His eyes were now opened to all the things and opportunities that he could use for a better life for himself and those close to him.

The Magical World considered Harry Potter to be a day-to-day wizard who had by some luck survived the Killing Curse from the Dark Lord when he was one year old. He would use this to his advantage, as no one would suspect him of being able to manipulate his way to the top. People considered Gryffindors to be always good and honorable. But Peter Pettigrew (aka Wormtail) was an example that it was not always so.

Harry decided that he would have his own code of conduct from now on. He was not going to be a stereotypic moron who was swayed by the opinion of people; people who he knew were biased and fickle. He had experienced their bigotry first-handed.

Even the so-called Light-sided wizards were not free from bigotry. Their bigotry was for other things, but in the end, it was still bigotry. They considered Werewolves to be Dark Creatures but they were just individuals who had a 'furry little problem'. They were only dangerous on full moon, and even that could be prevented by the use of the Wolfsbane Potion. Ron had thought that being a Parselmouth was the sign of a Dark Wizard. But Parseltongue was only a skill that was passed from generation to generation, a skill that some evil wizards had used for wrong-doing, and then the world condemned every Parselmouth as a Dark Wizard.

Then there was the topic of Dark Arts. Harry remembered his time during the Philosopher's Stone Fiasco in the Stone Chamber from his first year when Voldemort had spoken to him face-to-face. "There is no good or evil, only power and those too weak to seek it." While that statement could not be considered true, it did make some sense. Magic was just that, magic. It was with the intentions that it was used that mattered. Light Magic could be used for harm and Dark Magic could be used for good. Dark Arts were given a bad name because they were addictive. Dark Arts required emotions to properly channel the spell. This just proved that the wizards who used them had weak minds and they could not protect their minds from their own emotions, which led them to be seduced by the power. Tommy Boy was a special case though. He had a strong will and a strong mind, but because of the horrors of his childhood, he had become cruel to protect himself and then he had come to hate the Muggles. (He knew everything about Tom Riddle's orphanage life.) He actively sought power for the sake of power. But power without a purpose was pointless.

Harry knew that he was powerful, and he knew that if he was to learn the Dark Arts, he would not be seduced by the power. He could not allow himself to be seduced. He would not allow himself to be seduced. He would respect the Arts and use it rationally. And the use of Unforgivables was an option that was only to be used in a life or death situation, when he would be desperately searching for any means of winning. He knew that he had the will to hurt and kill - he had those impulses every time he saw Voldemort, the Death Eaters, Umbridge and Fudge - and he had successfully used the Cruciatus Curse for a short time on Bellatrix Lestrange. The only Unforgivables he could use properly would be the Cruciatus and the Killing Curse; he could not cast the Imperious Curse satisfactorily as he had no urge to dominate someone.

Harry knew that he had to control his emotions and not let them carry him away like it had happened with Sirius, or he would not be allowed to live to tell the tale the next time he came across someone he hated. He would be dead because he attacked without a plan in a fit of emotions.

Harry decided that he had to learn how to control his emotions and channel them, and for that he needed to learn Occlumency. He would not suppress his emotions. Instead, he would store his emotions in the corners of his mind and he would use them when he needed. Using the emotions in a combat-situation would be a two-fold advantage as it would stop them from affecting his mind and they would also make his spells powerful. If he stored some of his happiness away so that he could use them at some another time, then he could cast a powerful Patronus Charm when facing Dementors. He knew that when using Patronus, one had to actively think of a happy memory. This made them susceptible to attacks from the surrounding. So if he used his stored happiness, he would not have to actively seek a happy memory and he could concentrate on his surrounding environment. Similarly, he could store his hate and killing instinct to use them for Unforgivables.

The storing of his emotions had to be done passively, as he knew that people considered Harry Potter to be an emotional teenager and his lack of emotions would likely raise suspicion. Harry also reckoned that if he suppressed his emotions actively, he would likely become a nutter like Dumbledore who sucked on his tray full of Lemon Drops, or a snarky git like Snape who hated everyone, or a powerful mindless psychopath like Tommy Boy who wanted to rule the world.

Then there was the question about his dueling skills, as knowledge of spells was not everything in a battle. One had to have knowledge of when to use a spell depending on the situation. There was no need to use a Flame Spell when a simple Lumos would suffice. Harry considered himself to be average dueler, who could defeat his school mates and hold himself against a knowledgeable opponent for sometime. He had power, he knew that and he accepted it, but what he lacked was proper knowledge of spells. He resolved to himself that he would read every spell book in his possession and then he would probably visit Diagon Alley for more books. He also wanted to visit Knockturn Alley so that he could obtain books on the Dark Arts. Even if he would not use them, it was better to have knowledge of an opponents' weapons so that they could be properly counteracted.

But for him to be able to procure all these things, Harry needed money, and for money, he needed to go to Gringotts Wizard Bank in Diagon Alley. And to be able to go to Diagon Alley, he would need to get past his Order Guards undetected and come back undetected. If he was caught while leaving, the security would be tightened and he would not get another opportunity to escape. If was caught coming back with bags full of book, books regarding the Dark Arts at that, he knew that he was in for Hell.

In the end, Harry decided that he would study the guard shift of the Order members. If it was Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody, he knew that he would not be able to even leave the house because of that magical eye of Moody which could see through walls, and if he was not at home when Mad Eye checked, he knew that he would have to pay for leaving the house without permission. (Permission which, Harry was sure, he would not get even if he asked.) Same would be the case with the Order members who were Ministry Aurors. They were trained individuals and as such they would know some spells that would help them in determining whether he was present in the house or not.

Harry reckoned that his only chance of leaving Privet Drive and getting to Diagon Alley would be if the Order posted some less skilled members. Someone like Mundungus Fletcher.

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**AN :** About Harry knowing Tom's orphanage life, he had seen his entire life when he had stabbed the diary as the soul was slowly destroyed. He saw the similarities in their childhood, but he knew that he had to be strong or he would become like Tom, which he did not want. That is why this story is AU. It is also minor crossover. The emotion talk may sound like Jedi talk of the force. Here Harry is not a pansy and he does not wallow in grief. He is intelligent and cunning, but he has honour. Some things will be changed from the events of the canon to for the purpose of my story, but most will remain the same. Whenever you come across the changes from the canon, if anyone has any confusion, please mention so in the review and I will try my best to solve your doubts. If you want I will PM you.

I would also like to thank all my reviewers for their encouragement. To all readers, please review!

There is a pairing poll on my profile page! Please visit and Vote!

May your sword stay sharp!


	3. Plans & Preparations

Harry Potter – Hunter

**By : Andor Swiftblade**

**Disclaimer** : Harry Potter belongs to the beautiful blonde lady famously known as J K Rowling. No monetary gain is being made from this story. Any non-Canon characters belong to me. Certain creative terms which have been used probably belong to some of my brilliant fellow fan fiction authors. (I don't really know to whom, so please forgive me.)

**Summary** : After the DoM Mayhem, Harry decides that he is tired of the Dursleys and figures that he wants to take a unique summer job. Follow him as in his bid for freedom, he has the adventure of a lifetime. Post OotP. Probably AU. Might include crossovers.

* * *

_**Experience is a good teacher, but at times the fees are rather high.**_

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_**If you keep looking at the obstacles, you have takes your eyes off your goal.**_

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_**People may doubt what you say, but they will always believe what you do.**_

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_**Life can never give security; it can only promise opportunity. Many receive opportunities, but only the wise profit from it.**_

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_**The only job you start at the top is when you dig a hole.**_

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*** * * * * Chapter 3 * * * * ***

***|* Plans & Preparations *|***

During the next few days, the weather in England became considerably cooler than it was before. The heat was now tolerable, but the humidity levels increased considerably, which caused a lot of uncomfortable sweating. On one such day, it was nearly noon when one could hear a lot of cursing in a slightly muffled voice. If one tried to locate the source of the voice, they would be quite bewildered to find the cursing coming from thin air from under a window sill on the lawn of Number Four Privet Drive. They would probably think that the heat was messing with their brains and they were hallucinating and they would rush to a Doctor or they would go home and empty a full bottle of water on their head before deciding to go to bed.

In truth, the source of the current quiet disturbance was a weedy looking man called Mundungus Fletcher. He was a man who had quite a reputation in the shady places of England, most of all in one place known as Knockturn Alley. Said alley which was full of similar shady people and filthy-looking houses. If one looked at him, he would look like a pile of moldy old rags which were lumped together. But he was not visible to anyone at the moment. The reason he was currently invisible was because he was hiding under an Invisibility Cloak. And the reason he was hiding under an Invisibility Cloak and sitting under a window sill hidden by ornamental bushes was because he was currently the Order member who was on Guard duty. He was put on Guard duty because all the Order members who were usually on this duty at this time of the day were doing important work related to their daily jobs or some undercover Order business.

'Tha's wha thay say,' Mundungus, commonly called by his 'associates' as "Dung", grumbled to himself. 'Ah know that thay are still punishin' me fah last year's mistake.'

Dung was sure that all the Order members had some personal vendetta against him and were taking their vengeance by ordering him to guard the Potter lad in this humid climate. This time there were no Dementors here, but as he continued sweating, Dung thought that al least the chill of the Dementor's frost aura would keep him cool from the heat.

Dung wanted nothing to do with the vigilante Order of the Phoenix, but he had been forced to join the group as a favor to Dumbledore, who had saved his life in the last war against the Dark Lord. If he did not owe the old man a life debt, he would have returned to his 'business associates' as soon as he could. But now due to that thrice-damned life debt, he had ended up guarding a brat who always got into one mess or another.

As his thoughts turned to the Order, he speculated about the Order Headquarters. Now that Black was dead, there would be no one in the house other than the blasted House Elf and that vile portrait. The old man and other Order members were worried that with Black's death, the security of the place had been compromised. There was only one solution for that in Dung's mind : loot all valuables and then leave the dirty house alone. As he reminisced about the house, he suddenly remembered that the house was full of goblets, plates and countless other artifacts made of gold and silver. There were even a few valuable jewels and ornaments lying around in glass boxes that could not be opened by anyone. If he stole a few and sold them, then he would get a hefty prize for finding the belongings of a very old Pureblood family. The money would allow him to live a life of luxury for a few years. The Order was foolish; such a large source of money was in front of them of them and they had no idea how much their value in the market was.

Finally, as he lit his tobacco pipe, Dung decided that when his shift was over and he was replaced by Dedalus Diggle, he would head over to that hovel and dig around for some of the artifacts. Who knew, he just might get lucky, right?

Sadly, Mundungus Fletcher didn't realize how wrong he was.

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Harry had at first spent two days studying the guard shift of the Order members, but after two days of doing nothing but trying to recognize the Order members on guard duty, he decided that the Order members on guard duty had no pattern in their shifts and were completely random. They changed at completely random time and their shifts varied in lengths of specific time. Some were there for only ten minutes while others stayed for full five hours. So instead of wasting his precious time trying to understand the randomness of his Guards, he spent the next few days reading every book he had in his collection. He went over every book ranging from '**The Standard Book of Spell – Grade 1 to 5**', '**Fantastic Beasts & Where To Find Them**', '**1000 Magical Herbs & Fungi**', as well as the set of Defense books he was gifted by Sirius and Remus on Christmas.

Harry also decided to ready all his belongings for departure as he had no idea of when he would have to leave. He had his school bag which was used to carry his class books and was expanded on the inside. He had dragged his school trunk out and was sorting through all the useful things inside the trunk.

Harry had polished and prepared his Firebolt – which he had received at the end of the school year after being confisticated by Umbitch. . . Ooops. . . Umbridge – so that he could fly away in case there was any sign of danger nearby. His Invisibility Cloak was neatly folded on the desk, along with the Marauders Map and his Sneakoscope (a gift from Ron). His wand was in his back pocket, ready for use at the slightest hint of trouble. (Harry hoped that Moody never saw this or he would survive to hear the end of the lecture on elementary wand safety.)

The expanded book bag contained all the books that he considered important, his photo album and a few change of clothes, along with his money bag. His Gringotts Vault Key was with him. (He had been about to ask for Mrs. Weasley to return it, and was surprised that she was carrying it in her purse pocket and was going to return it to him on the platform as they were about to depart to their homes.)

As Harry was arranging his cauldron and potions kit in his trunk – which he decided that he did not need when he was escaping as it would only weigh him down – he saw a small vial lying in the corner of his trunk. As he picked it up, he recognized that it was from his potions kit and realized that it must have must have slipped out of it place during packing. He opened his potion kit to return the ingredient to its proper place and he saw that one slot from the portion of the kit labeled "**Poisonous : Handle with care**" was empty. He turned the vial in his hand and saw that the vial was labeled in an elegant script as '**Hellebore**'. Just as he was about to put it into its proper slot, the text explaining Hellebore flashed through his mind and he paused. Looking at the small vial thoughtfully, a plan slowly formed in Harry's mind.

Hellebore was a poisonous ingredient. Such poisonous ingredients had to be only touched when one was wearing Dragon-hide gloves and they had to be handled with care. Harry imagined that these could be used as poison to kill someone off and make it look like an accident involving mishandling of highly poisonous potion ingredients. If he was able to do that, at least he would not be blamed directly for any deaths and then he could afterwards always Obliviate himself to erase the damning memory so that Veritaserum could not be used against him.

If Harry wanted to get into the Hunter profession, he knew that he had to be cunning and ruthless to his enemies. Every bad person dead was one less person fighting against him and hurting anyone else. He could also use Muggle poison from non-magical plants. He had read in a book at Hogwarts regarding the autopsies in Magical World after the events of the Chamber of Secrets Incident. The Aurors and Healers only checked for spell damage or magical poisoning. They had difficulty identifying and diagnosing even major petrification, which was easily recognizable. They thought that Muggle plants would not affect them since wizards were after all considered immune to Muggle diseases, so the death had to be by magic. It made perfect sense, but only to the morons of the Magical World. It was as if they considered themselves to actually be immune to Muggles. That would explain all the Pureblood nonsense about being superior to Muggles and Muggleborns.

Harry personally thought that those Purebloods should be left stranded on some barren island with a common mugger with a Gun in his hand and they would find out how superior they actually were. Oh yeah, they would be superior alright, with their souls floating away to Heaven. That was if they were lucky. Otherwise they would prove that they were inferior to a Muggle by lying dead at his feet with a bullet hole in their heads and their souls being carried away to Hell.

The uses of a Gun certainly interested him though. Harry was sure that most of the Magical World had no knowledge about firearms other than some individuals who were Muggleborn, Muggle-raised or half-bloods. He didn't know what was taught in the Muggle Studies Class at Hogwarts, but he was pretty sure that firearms were only mentioned in passing. Even Mr. Weasley – who was arguably the most Muggle-fanatic wizard he had ever met – didn't know what a Gun was, because during his third year Sirius Crisis, Mr. Weasley had called a Pistol as 'some type of Muggle wand'. If he was able to get a Gun from one of the shady London dealers, he could enchant it himself. If he found an enchanted firearm during his trip to Knockturn Alley, then even better. He was sure that a Gun would work even at Hogwarts, because even though magic interfered with electronics, a Gun had no electronics to be interfered with. A Gun just worked on the basic laws of physics. And it worked better than a wand for someone who wanted his enemies down as quickly as possible and did not want to waste his magic.

Harry then realized that even though he was about to become a Hunter, he did not have the most basic equipment that any Hunter should have : a Hunting Knife. A Knife was a basic, easy-to-use, multi-purpose weapon. It could be coated with poisons so as to paralyze a victim or kill them quickly. And it could be easily considered on the body.

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his now shoulder-length black hair. He had always wondered about why he didn't need any haircut since he had started Hogwarts. When he had learnt about Metamorphmagus and their abilities from Tonks, he thought he was also one, since when he had lost nearly all the hair on his head due to Aunt Petunia cutting them off with garden scissors when she was annoyed with his scruffy looking hair, the hair had miraculously grown back overnight. And since then he had not needed a hair cut. But then he noticed that his fellow Classmates also never had any haircuts during their time at Hogwarts. So he finally wrote it off as a side effect of being magical.

Harry groaned suddenly as he realized that he still had so many things to plan, so much work still left to be done. He might have some experience on fighting against the Death Munchers, but he knew that he still had many things to learn. Things that were not taught at Hogwarts.

* * *

After having lunch, Harry was again in his bedroom and was standing near the open window, just relaxing during some of the free time that he had available right now. He knew that his life was soon going to become exciting and he wanted to remember these peaceful moments of quietness, a few brief moments of tranquility during which he did not have to care about any of his problems and just relax his mind and body.

Harry spent some time lazing around near the window as a breeze blew through the window. Then Harry noticed something different in the wind. It was the smell of something burning, something that smelled almost putrid. Some that smelled like . . . tobacco. . . The smell triggered his memories and Harry quickly stuck his head out of the window and looked down at the lawn. Unsurprisingly, there in the lawn, near the window sill above the ornamental bushes, a whiff of smoke was slowly rising, and then it was carried away by the wind.

Harry rolled his eyes as he recognised the Order member on duty. There was no other member of the Order who smoked tobacco, and there was certainly no person in the Order who would dare to smoke on their guard shift. There was only one person who was stupid enough, and that person went by the name of Mundungus Fletcher.

As he pulled his head back into the room, Harry wondered how Dumbledore punished the Order members who slacked off their duties. He was certain that the old Headmaster would use emotional blackmail first and foremost; first that damn twinkling eyes would become less like a headlight of a vehicle and then his voice would become all low and morose, as if he was disappointed in the person. Harry was certain that every Order member was susceptible to this attack; he himself had certainly been a victim many times.

Just as he was thinking about punishment, an idea hatched in his mind and quickly started taking the form of a cunning plan. Harry was sure that if he succeeded in carrying out this particular plan effectively, then he could gain a lot of important stuff and he would quickly be on the path of becoming a Hunter.

As the plan was finally completely formed, Harry decided that he would take advantage of this opportunity provided to him and he would squeeze as much profit out of it as he possibly could. Reaching his trunk, Harry took out the one thing that would help him in convincing Mundungus to help him if his 'negotiations', so to say, were not successful.

With a smirk firmly etched onto his face, Harry left his room to confront the one man whose help would be vital in his plans for the future.

'Look out, Mundungus Fletcher. By the end of the day, you will be with me or you will not be there at all.'

* * *

**AN :** There will only be three Horcruxes in this story : the Diary, the Snake and Voldemort's soul. Harry will not be a Horcrux.

**Further explanation of last chapter's statement about Harry seeing Tom's orphanage memories** : Harry could see Tom's soul in the diary and understand it because he had been touched by Voldemort's Magic at Soul level when the Killing Curse failed to work. Hence he was already familiar with Tom's magic and the brief memory viewing from the soul was just an unconscious response to the life force contained the diary being suddenly destroyed. Tom's soul in the diary had nearly attained corporality and thus on being destroyed, the life force returned to Ginny, but the magic of the enchanted diary as well as the small amount of life force had quite a lot of power, and so a contained energy backlash was created and the energy (along with the soul fragment's life force) was released into nature through Harry and so Harry saw some brief flashes of memories of several incidents in which Tom suffered an intense emotions. Harry has retained no knowledge from Tom's memories nor does he know about Horcruxes, he will find about them later in the story.

Thank you, all my reviewers. And thanks to those too who have read my story. If you have any query regarding the story, write it down in a review. Those who wish to discuss about the story may also leave a review; I will try to be in contact with you.

**AN 2 : **This note is to inform my dear readers that while right now I might be updating daily, this will not be the fixed update rate for the future.

There is a pairing poll on my profile page! Please visit and Vote!

May your sword stay sharp!


	4. The Thief's Downfall

**Harry Potter – Hunter**

**By : Andor Swiftblade**

**Disclaimer** : Harry Potter belongs to the beautiful blonde lady famously known as J K Rowling. No monetary gain is being made from this story. Any non-Canon characters belong to me. Certain creative terms which have been used probably belong to some of my brilliant fellow fan fiction authors. (I don't really know to whom, so please forgive me.)

**Summary** : After the DoM Mayhem, Harry decides that he is tired of the Dursleys and figures that he wants to take a unique summer job. Follow him as in his bid for freedom, he has the adventure of a lifetime. Post OotP. Probably AU. Might include crossovers.

* * *

_**With patience, you are more likely to get the things you want.**_

* * *

_**Learn to listen. Opportunity sometimes knocks very softly.**_

* * *

_**The harder you work at new skills, the luckier you will become.**_

* * *

_**Often getting started is the most difficult part of a task. It's easier from then onwards.**_

* * *

_**The nice thing about meditation is that it makes doing nothing quite respectable.**_

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*** * * * * Chapter 4 * * * * ***

***|* The Thief's Downfall *|***

Petunia Dursley was sitting in the armchair in the sitting room reading one of her favorite magazine when she heard soft footsteps descending from the upstairs. (Her hearing was exceptional. It was, after all, a necessary skill for her favorite past time, that being spying on her neighbors.) She instantly identified them as her nephew's. Also, a fact to be taken into consideration was that no one else would be walking that lightly and quietly in the house other that boy. Vernon and Dudley made quite some noise whenever they moved anywhere in the house. (Which everyone had to admit was very strong structurally, to be able to bear such weight without collapsing.)

She looked up slightly from her magazine, quietly informing the boy that she was aware of his presence in the room. When the boy did not speak to her, she went back to her reading, but she was distracted by the noise of the door to the kitchen being opened. She looked from above the rim of her book and noticed that the boy was entering her kitchen.

Just as he was about to enter the kitchen, Petunia spoke up. "What are you doing down here now, Boy? We just had our lunch, didn't we?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia. I was just thirsty and needed some water. Can I have a glass?" the boy asked her, to which she responded with a sharp nod.

The boy slowly turned around and entered the kitchen. After some time, he came out of the kitchen holding a glass of cool water and moved towards the front door of the house. Just as he was about to open it, Petunia spoke up again, her voice somewhat muffled now.

"Where are you going, Boy? Go to your room right now!" she said, tone superbly disdainful, all the while wondering if he was going to cause more trouble for her by doing something idiotic with his freakishness like last year.

"I'm just going outside to sit in the lawn for sometime, Aunt Petunia," came the reply from the useless boy.

"Alright. Return before your cousin does or you will be locked out. And don't go around causing trouble with your ma . . . thing!" she corrected herself quickly, just in time to avoid saying the M-word.

"Alright, Aunt Petunia. I'll be back soon!" Then she heard the sound of the door being opened and closed quickly.

'Oh how I wish that you wouldn't!' Petunia thought to herself vindictively. 'Why can't you just go away and leave us to our normal lives!'

Petunia didn't know why, but suddenly she had a feeling that her wish was going to be fulfilled at last.

* * *

_**. . . "How come he is in the Order?" . . . **_

_**. . . "He's useful. Knows all the crooks – well, he would, seeing as he's one himself. But he's also very loyal to Dumbledore, who helped him out of a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Dung around, he hears things we don't." . . . **_

* * *

As Harry walked out of the house and into the lawn, he reflected on a conversation he had once had with Sirius. And now as he was casually strolling towards the topic of his previous recollection, he contemplated about the plan he had quickly assembled in his mind, the one he was now about to execute. But he had not yet completely made up his mind about carrying out the plan. And so he continued his mental debate.

Harry had no idea how Dumbledore had justified Mundungus Fletcher's inductance in the Order. It might have something to do with the man's contacts in different places, as Sirius had once informed him. But Harry had never fully believed that piece of information. The man hadn't proved himself to be much helpful to Harry, other than when he had provided his business partners – Fred and George Weasley – with some questionable supplies for their Joke Shop.

(When Harry had questioned them once, Fred and George had confided in him that they only had dealings with Dung because he provided them with rather illegal – not to mention dangerous – work materials at a cheap rate, and also because he didn't inform their mother of their activities.)

Harry had no idea why someone would agree to work willingly with Fletcher. He always smelled strongly of booze, and he was constantly smoking that ugly tobacco pipe of his, which made him smell even nastier. He always looked like he had a hangover and Harry could not work out how the man went about dealing in the black market in such an inebriated state.

The man was a thief and a coward; even Mrs. Figg had intimidated the worthless man. If the spineless cretin was ever captured by the Death Munchers, Harry knew that the man would babble all the information he had even before he was threatened at wand-point.

Last year, the thief had been sniffing around Grimmauld Place looking for various objects he could trade in; and more than once, Harry had heard the Dealer talking with his Godfather and inquiring off-handedly about the price of various paraphernalia scattered across the house in various shelves. And on a few occasions during the holidays, Harry had seen Fletcher look at those objects with a glimmer in his eyes, similar to what he had seen in Dudley's piggy-eyes before he stole something from anyone. Harry had concluded that when Fletcher got the chance, he was going to completely ransack the place, and Harry couldn't have any of that. It was his Godfather's house after all. And no petty thief was going to steal from there, not on his account.

Harry had never really liked Mundungus Fletcher; the man had jeopardized his life with his carelessness and greed. Though he never openly said it, the man disgusted him. Fletcher willingly admitted that he had left his guard post the previous year for a business opportunity; during which he had met someone regarding a batch of cauldrons that fell of the back of someone's broom. The man had no value for life, and he had already proven that a batch of cheap cauldrons mattered more to him than the life of his own comrades.

_A person who does not value life does not deserve it._

And that was the final – and most important – reason why Harry resolved to himself that Mundungus Fletcher was not going to be a resident of this world for long.

* * *

Mundungus Fletcher was currently sitting under the window sill behind an ornamental bush, hidden beneath an Invisibility Cloak provided by the Order. He was smoking his grimy black pipe and was breathing out greenish smoke which had the pungent smell of tobacco. He was obscured by the greenish smoke, not that he had been any more visible before. If anyone looked his way, it would have looked like there was a house fire, what with all the smoke coming from under the window sill.

And that was how Harry found the man. Harry had no idea how the man thought that smoking a pipe which emitted green smoke was a good idea when he was supposed to be undercover during his guard shift. But he concluded that wizards considered being invisible as being completely untraceable; they were so sure that they would not be detected when invisible, and hence they could do anything when invisible. That was another reason why wizards were stupid. But Harry was not one of them.

Having decided on his course of action, Harry walked to the somewhat smoke-obscured bush and whispered out, "Hey, Dung, what're you doing out here in this heat?"

Though he had spoken very quietly, his low voice scared the filthy man to Hell. Fletcher was so scared that he did not notice his Invisibility Cloak falling off him as he shakily stood up.

Now visible for the world to see was a squat, unshaven man covered in rags who smelled of drink mingled with the strong scent of stale tobacco. He had short, bandy legs, long straggly ginger hair and bloodshot, baggy eyes. And at his feet was a silvery bundle that was one of the most precious and costly commodity in the Wizarding World, one that Harry recognized at once as an Invisibility Cloak.

"Who's there? Whaddya want?" blustered the tobacco-smelling man, his voice sounding a bit slurry.

"It's just me, Dung, it's me, Harry," said Harry quietly, just to make sure that the still drowsy man understood him.

"'Arry? Whatcha doin' out 'ere? Yar supposed to be in tha house!" grunted Dung, his voice somewhat less slurred now.

"Well, this lawn is a part of the house, so technically, I'm still inside the boundaries of my house," explained Harry bluntly.

"Oh. . . " said Fletcher rather stupidly, still not fully aware of his surrounding.

"Hey, I wanted to ask if you needed a drink. You know, it's hot out here, so you might be thirsty," said Harry, holding out the glass in front of him.

"Ah, thank ye, lad. Thank ye very much!" exclaimed the Dealer, now feeling a bit better since he now had a small comfort in his 'punishment'.

"No thanks necessary, Dung. You are here guarding me. It's the least I could do for you," said Harry sincerely; at least he hoped it came out sincerely.

"Even then, thank ye just tha same!" said Dung eagerly, which satisfied Harry that his acting had worked well enough. But he doubted it would work with anyone else. This was, after all, the stupidest Order member he knew of.

Harry just smiled at the man as he greedily gulped down the water. After smacking his lips in pleasure, the man smiled – which revealed his yellow rotten teeth – and looked at Harry. Harry just looked back, as though waiting for something.

"S'up, Harry? How did ya find me? I was undercover, ya know," said Dung, trying to start a conversation. He was a bit nervous that he had been found out. If anyone else from the Order found out, he knew that he was going to be hanged from the ceiling by his fingers and toes. The Order bitches, namely McGonagall, Molly and Vance, had still not forgotten about last year's incident. Nor had many others as well.

"I just thought I heard something here as I was walking by, so I thought I'd check," replied Harry calmly.

"Oh. . . " Dung trailed off. "'Ey, Harry, is there something special in the water?"

"No, why'd you ask?" inquired Harry while raising an eyebrow.

"Nathing, it just tasted odd, ya know, a bit spicy," said Dung, "Like Firewhisky, just a bit more diluted." He shook his head sadly, imagining the strong taste of Firewhisky on his tongue. It had been so long since he had a proper drink, nearly two hours!

"Oh, I never knew that Firewhisky tasted spicy," said Harry softly, as though he was admitting a secret.

Dung looked scandalized. "Wha. . . Ne'er had Firewhisky! I don't believe it!"

"It's the truth though," admitted Harry.

"Aha! I know! I think we'll. . . "

Suddenly, Dung became quiet. He had just been standing there when all of a sudden, he began to feel a bit lethargic. He had the feeling of vertigo; it was as if his entire world was turning upside down. He could not see properly for his vision became hazy, and the noise in his years was suddenly muffled. His entire mind was full of a sort of buzzing and it was making him a bit light-headed. The dizziness increased and he quickly collapsed onto the ground, holding his head in his hand as he began feeling a bit light-headed.

Harry just stood there for a few moments, looking at the downed man and smiling grimly to himself. After a few seconds, he quickly molded his face to fake a look of concern as he knelt by the dazed man.

"What happened, Dung? Are you alright? Do you need some help? C'mon, Dung, speak up!" inquired Harry hurriedly, taking care to make his voice sound a little panicked.

"Nothin', lad. I think its just tha heat that got ta me!" muttered Dung, sounding slightly drunken.

"We need to get help for you, Dung. Do you have a Portkey to Grimmauld Place? Or maybe an extra wand so that I can call the Knight Bus?" enquired Harry, looking around to make sure that no one was watching the scene.

"Yeah, check mah pockets, I got a Portkey to that place," said Dung quietly.

"Why do you have a Portkey to Grimmauld Place? I thought that the Order left the place. At least that's what Remus told me," said Harry.

Though Dung was not feeling well, he was not as stupid as everyone assumed him to be. He knew that Harry was Sirius' Heir, and if he admitted that he was going to loot the place, Harry would not help him now. This could be potentially problematic. So he decided to improvise.

"It's the emergency Portkey Dumbledore gave us Order members, Tap it twice," he said, sure that Harry would believe his lie.

"Oh. . . "

Harry knew that Fletcher was lying and now his suspicions about the cretin had been confirmed. Harry knew that Dung had been saving that Portkey for a proper opportunity to loot the place. Storing that little piece of information in the back of his mind for later use, Harry quickly checked the asinine man's pockets for any useful items. He quickly found a few pouches containing tobacco, a few gold coins along with a few silver and bronze ones. The man also had a few items which were in various stages of disintegration, and then a slightly bent piece of wood that Harry deduced to be Dung's proper wand.

Harry continued searching and found a few more miscellaneous articles until finally he found a small pendant in the shape of a Phoenix made of ruby. Harry knew what it was. Sirius had informed him that Dumbledore had provided every Order member with a pendent to contact them in case of an emergency, but it was not a Portkey. Dumbledore had suspected that the Pendent could fall in the wrong hands and then the Headquarters of the Order would be compromised. But Dung must have had it made into a Portkey by someone, and he would be the only one able to activate it.

"Harry, help. . . " croaked Dung, feeling more and more weak with every passing minute.

"Just a second. . . "

Harry swiftly organized the junk from Dung's pockets into two piles, the useful items and the waste. The now folded Invisibility Cloak he had collected from it place on the ground was also added to the pile. It was too priceless to let it be wasted with a thief like Fletcher, and he could use this one instead of his own, so that one of his precious items would be safe from any damage if he got into any scuffles.

"Quick. . . " came the faint voice from the pile of rags.

Pocketing the little money Dung carried with him along with the Invisibility Cloak, Harry quickly returned the useless items into Dung's pockets. Dung's wand gripped in one hand and his own Holly-and-Phoenix-feather wand still stowed inside his back pocket, Harry quickly rushed to the fallen man.

Dung's breathing was a bit shallow, as if he was having trouble breathing properly. Breaths of air escaped his mouth in harsh gaps and his eyes were slowly losing focus.

Harry quickly handed the erratically breathing Dung the slightly bent wand while he held the chain of the Order Pendant in one hand and wound it slightly around Dung's hand. His eyes were darting sideways every now and then to make sure that they weren't being noticed by anyone.

"Dung, is this your wand?" Harry demanded, roughly grabbing hold of Fletcher's robe collar to make him look at the piece of wood held loosely in the man's clammy hands.

The dazed man nodded as his eyes focused for a brief moment at the question before glazing over again. Harry figured that Dung had understood his question and answered as best as he could in his current condition. His question confirmed, he quickly took hold of Dung's wand hand – with the wand in a loose grip within the Dealer's hand – and quickly tapped the Order Pendant twice with it.

With a flash of blue that was nearly invisible in the bright sunlight, and the feeling of a hook attached to his navel jerking him irresistibly forward, both Harry and Dung disappeared from Privet Drive.

* * *

**(I had first decided to end the chapter here, but then I thought that it was rather small and so I decided to continue.)**

* * *

A flash of blue deposited Harry and Mundungus on the worn stone steps of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. The black painted shabby and scratched door materialized in front of them as soon as they shuffled forward, Harry keeping a hold on his tipsy companion to keep him from collapsing on the hard steps and injuring himself further. The man had to be in a good-enough condition until Harry was through with him.

As they walked up the stone – more like Harry dragging Dung along with him – Harry noticed that Dung was still holding onto the wand. Harry knew that he needed a wand to open the front door locks and that he could not use his own because of the Ministry Trace, so he snatched the wand from the man's hand in order to use it, knowing that the Dealer would have no further use of it.

Reaching the door, Harry tapped the front door once, with the borrowed wand. He heard a series of metallic clicks and the clatter of a chair, and then the door swung open with a creak. Gripping the crook's crooked wand tightly, he stepped over the threshold into the almost total darkness of the hall. Harry pulled Dung inside and quickly closed the door before someone noticed them, and the room was submerged into darkness as the light from the streetlamps vanished. Then a soft hissing noise was heard and old-fashioned gas lamps sprang into life, casting flickering light along the length of the hallway.

The place looked just like Harry remembered it to be : eerie, cobwebbed and the House Elf heads on the walls throwing odd shadows up the staircase. Long, dark, moth-eaten curtains concealed the portrait of Walburga Black, Sirius's mother. The Troll's leg umbrella stand – Tonks' mortal enemy in this house – was lying on its side. Harry reckoned that Tonks had probably knocked it over when leaving the place for the final time and neglected to pick it back up. She probably intentionally left it like that as a revenge for all the embarrassing tripping caused by the stand. There was certainly no love lost between the two.

Harry held Dung's wand in front of him while supporting Dung with the other. He quickly wanted to reach the Drawing Room on the first floor of the house. Sirius had once told him that there was a cabinet in the room near the fireplace where various Healing Potions were kept by the Order in case there was an emergency. Harry hoped that while leaving, the Order had not completely emptied the shelf. If they had, Harry was going to lose his fountain of information very quickly. And that was not a scenario he wanted to imagine at this moment.

Harry quickly placed a hand over the man's mouth in case he had a sudden urge to make some weird noise. He knew that Dung was still awake and alive, just very weak, and that he might let out a moan or groan, like he had done in the lawn at Privet Drive, which right now could cause a big problem for him. Because right at the moment, he was walking past the portrait of Mrs. Black. And if the old hag woke up, he knew that she would make a huge racket. And he did not know if there was anyone else present in this hovel other him and Fletcher.

Quietly tiptoeing past the black threadbare curtains with Fletcher in tow, Harry cursed his stupidity. He had forgotten that he held Mundungus ' wand in his hand, a wand that belonged to an adult wizard, a wand that had no Ministry Trace placed on it.

_"Homenum revelio!"_ whispered Harry, as he moved the wand in a circle around himself. It was a spell he had found in the Library. The charm was used to detect and reveal human presence in the surrounding environment. And right now, according to the charm, there was no other human present in the house, other than himself and Fletcher.

Feeling a bit relieved after conforming that the house was empty, Harry used the wand to levitate Dung so that he would not have to carry the dirty and smelly man. The old gas lamps illuminated the staircase which led to the upper floors of the house. Holding the crooked wand a bit more tightly, Harry proceeded to climb the stairs to the first floor with Dung floating in the air a bit ahead of him, where the Drawing Room was located.

The heads of the past snout-nosed House Elves mounted on plaques were still there on the wall of the staircase. The staircase became darker as the climb continued and here there were no lamps to be lit. So Harry pulled out his own wand from the back pocket and used the one spell that all underage witches and wizards were allowed to use without a warning note from the Ministry.

"_Lumos!"_

The wand tip ignited with a soft white light, and the rest of the darkened stairs slowly revealed themselves to Harry. Both wands held in front of him, Harry continued to walk up the stairs while levitating Dung.

The stairs finally ended and the first floor landing revealed three doors. One of the doors led to a bathroom and the one besides it led to Hermione and Ginny's previously occupied shared bedroom. The lone door on the opposite side of the staircase led to the one room that Harry wanted to enter.

Canceling the Levitation Charm on Dung, Harry deposited the now-groaning man next to the bathroom door. With a quietly whispered "Nox!" Harry cancelled the Lumos Spell and again pocketed his own wand. Now holding Dung's wand in front of him, he approached the Drawing Room door. Cautiously touching the doorknob and sighing when nothing happened, Harry turned the doorknob. But the doorknob did not turn and the door steadily refused to budge from its position. Thinking that the door must have been locked with magic, Harry held the wand near the doorknob.

"_Alohomora!"_

There was a flash of white and then silence. Harry once again tried to turn the doorknob and open the door, but the door decided not to comply, again. Growling in frustration, Harry slammed his fist into the wall. This brought him nothing but an intense jolt of pain.

Trying to come up with an idea of how to open the door, Harry became more and more frustrated. Without realizing what he was doing, he swung the wand, held it in front of the doorknob, and quietly muttered, _"Reducto."_

The spell erupted from the wand and traveled the short distance from its origin to its target. The target – which was the doorknob – was blown away and the door of the Drawing Room swung inwards.

Harry did not have any time to waste being shocked and so he rushed to Dung, levitated the groaning man and quickly entered the room, ignoring the scattered debris near the door. He settled the man on an arm chair and quickly sprinted to the black cabinet located near the fireplace.

Forcefully heaving the cabinet door open, Harry peaked inside and groaned. The cabinet was empty and the only thing residing inside the shelf was dust. Not wanting to give up so easily, Harry properly searched through every shelf of the cabinet. Every nook and corner was checked. Both the wands were now lit and were emitting a bright white light, which was brighter than normal due to the heightened emotions of the caster.

Harry was on the verge of giving up, as the topmost shelf that he was checking also turned out to be empty. But suddenly he spotted a box lying on the top of the cabinet when the light from the wands was suddenly reflected by something. That something happened to be the metal clasp of a box. It had not been visible until now because it had been covered with dust.

Quickly levitating the box from it place, Harry gently lowered it onto the table so as to not disturb the contents of the box. As he dusted the box with a stray piece of cloth lying on the table, Harry noticed the make of the box. The box was ornately carved and appeared to be of Oakwood, if he recognized the type of wood correctly, closed securely with a somewhat shiny metal clasp. The box was the size of one of the large tomes that Hermione sometimes borrowed from the Hogwarts Library. It was polished, but some of the luster of the polish had faded, so the box now appeared to be made of a dull brown wood. On touching the box, Harry could feel the magic on the box and concluded that the box was enchanted to some degree.

Deciding to see if the box had Anti-Theft Charms and to see if he could open it, Harry flipped the clasp of the box and was surprised when the box opened without a sound. Still rather surprised that such a costly box had no proper Protection Spells on it, Harry looked inside to see what the box contained.

To say that the contents of the box surprised him would be an understatement. Harry was beyond amazed to see nearly hundred vials of various completed potions and several boxes full of different ingredients that were used in potion making.

Harry considered himself to be lucky that he had found this box, and that too when he had needed it the most. Searching through the different boxes and trying to find what he currently needed, Harry noted that though the box appeared to be small from the outside, it was rather big on the inside. He surmised that the box had Space-Expansion Charms to make it larger on the inside. He had the same charm on his school bag, so that he could carry all his class books for the day at one time.

Rooting through the boxes, Harry found the item he had been searching for. Snape had mentioned it in his first Potions Class, and that class was not something that Harry could easily forget anytime soon. Especially when Snape had made sure that Harry saw _that _particular many times during their _"Remedial Potions"_.

Swiftly walking back to the chair that Dung was currently occupying, Harry gripped Dung's crooked wand in one hand while his other hand held the one thing that could save the thief's life; and along with the man's life, it would save his one chance of securing freedom without alerting the Order, the old coot Dumbledore, the Ministry of Mismanagement, the Moronic Munchers, and finally their Master, ole Tommy Boy.

Dung was mumbling to himself and making odd noises. He was jerking every now and then as if something was constantly pinching and poking him. His eves were glazed over and his breathes were coming in short, ragged, rattling gasps. Harry knew that if this was allowed to continue for one more hour, Dung Fletcher would be dead. And that was something he could not allow to happen, at least for now. After he had coerced all the useful information from the Dealer's mind, Dung could go to Hell for all he cared.

Drawing the borrowed wand in a flash, Harry quickly cast _"Petrificus totalus!"_ and _"Incarcerous!"_ one after another in quick succession. The rambling man's whole body went rigid and he lay on the chair stiff as a board. The second spell quickly bound the man in magical ropes that could not be easily cut.

Reaching for the man, Harry caught hold of Dung's jaw and forced his mouth open. Though the horrible breath nearly caused Harry to vomit, he held his stomach and continued with his task. Now that the mouth was open, Harry could see the rotten yellow teeth as well as a few golden ones in place of some of the fallen teeth. The tongue was slightly swollen and the man had a very severe case of halitosis. Holding the jaw open with one hand, Harry quickly shoved the thing inside Dung's mouth and moved back.

After a few minutes of watching the man, Harry noticed that Dung's opened eyes were quickly becoming clearer by the minute as the haze in his mind cleared. Deciding to avoid any trouble, Harry held out the wand over Dung's motionless body.

_"Stupefy!"_

A jet of red light hit Dung in the head and his eyes widened slightly in recognition before he was Stunned.

* * *

**Special Disclaimer :** Some descriptions of people and locations have been written from the HP books, but have been slightly altered. Some amount of information has also been taken from the HP films.

**AN :** Sorry for the delay! Had quite a busy week! Maybe I can manage one more update, on Sunday most likely.

I've decided that Harry's first prey will be Dung Fletcher, though it will happen in the next one or two chapters. (For reasons, see my ProPage. Few details regarding the story have also been posted there.) The next chapter may contain an omake.

Can someone guess what happened to Dung and what Harry gave him as the cure? Both those answers are rather easy, but still. And to just whom did the potion making box belong to? All these questions will be clearly answered in the next chapter.

Thank you, all my dear readers, for reading and reviewing my story. But I can do with some more reviews! Just joking.

There is a pairing poll on my profile page! Please visit and Vote!

May your swords stay sharp!


	5. Revenge

**Harry Potter – Hunter**

**By : Andor Swiftblade**

**Disclaimer** : Harry Potter belongs to the beautiful blonde lady famously known as J K Rowling. No monetary gain is being made from this story. Any non-Canon characters belong to me. Certain creative terms which have been used probably belong to some of my brilliant fellow fan fiction authors. (I don't really know to whom, so please forgive me.)

**Summary** : After the DoM Mayhem, Harry decides that he is tired of the Dursleys and figures that he wants to take a unique summer job. Follow him as in his bid for freedom, he has the adventure of a lifetime. Post OotP. Probably AU. Might include crossovers.

* * *

_**Only the dead have seen the end of a war.**_

* * *

_**We can believe what we choose. But we are answerable for what we choose to believe.**_

* * *

_**To save your world, you asked this man to die. Would this man, could he see you now, ask why?**_

* * *

_**They are blind leaders of the blind. And if blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch.**_

_**The enemies of Freedom do not ask and argue; they shout and they shoot.**_

* * *

_**Life is like a sewer. What you get out of it depends on what you put into it.**_

* * *

*** * * * * Chapter 5 * * * * ***

***|* Revenge *|***

Harry had always dreamed of being free from his relatives since his childhood. While his Aunt and Uncle did not physically abuse him – that particular honor was reserved for Dudley – their sharp, cutting words and neglect hurt even more deeply than any beating from Dudley and his friends would ever have. But he had to survive, and survive he did. He was not much trusting of anybody, not even people his own age, for he had personally seen what kind of damage even children could inflict on others; he had been the victim most of the times.

Harry never knew that he was a wizard, and when he had found out that he was not just an ordinary wizard but a famous one, he had been very happy. But after understanding that the cost of the fame had been the life of his parents, he had come to resent it. And he knew that fame was a magnet, a very powerful magnet that attracted trouble. And this trouble could also cause grievous harm; both to himself and to others.

But over the course of his five-year long stay in the Wizarding World, Harry had seen that fame and money could get you almost anything you wanted; so long as you played it safe and played it clean.

For the entire last year, he had been the victim of the Wizarding World's resentment. The reason for this was an incompetent man and his similarly incompetent Government. Ole Tommy Boy was another reason. Why couldn't he be a good little Dark Lord, show his face to the public and terrorize it. But no, Tommy had decided to grow a brain, and had decided to milk the Ministry's refusal to believe his return to his fullest. (Harry thought that the 'growing a brain' part must have been because his blood had been used in the Rebirthing Ritual.)

And finally there was the old 'Twinkle Toes' coot who also went by the name of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. His name was as long as his beard. The old Headmaster and his Bird Watching Club had decided (probably since when had Voldemort's return) that he was probably an interesting species of a bird, and hence they had decided to put watchers to spy on him.

But one of the Bird Watcher was incompetent, and everyone knew it. Yet he was allowed to do the watching, even though he had let a poacher slip past once. What was the guarantee that he would not do so again? Yet he had been allowed back on the bird watching duty. When a watcher smoked tobacco in a pipe that released clouds of green smoke and smelled heavily of alcohol, even the dumbest of the dumb creature would realize that they were being observed. Did they think that the bird was stupid?

If the bird was stupid, it would stay where it was instead of escaping when it could, and then another – more competent – watcher would arrive and it would not be able to escape any time soon.

If the bird was intelligent enough, it would escape when it still had the chance during the stupid watcher's watching shift, and not wait for another one to arrive.

And if the bird was a black haired green eyed teenage wizard, it would take its chance and have its freedom, but not before it destroyed the stupid watcher that had allowed for a poacher to almost kill it.

That was the reason why the said teenager, who went by the name of Harry Potter, was currently standing with a wand in each hand over the body of a man known to the world as Mundungus Fletcher. Said man was currently occupying an old armchair, under the effects of a Full-Body Bind Curse, a Binding Spell and a Stunning Spell. Previously, just a few minutes earlier, the man had been suffering from plant poisoning, and had just been cured before he had been Stunned.

_Hellebore is a plant with magical properties. Many species of Hellebore are poisonous. That is the reason why Dragon-hide gloves are required for handling the plant. It is mostly used in the Draught of Peace as an ingredient. In its powder form, it is brown. In its liquid form, more commonly known as Syrup of Hellebore, it is blue. When it is mixed with distilled water, the blue color of the Syrup vanished. But the poisonous effects of the Syrup are still as potent as it is in its Syrup; they just take a lot more time to take effect._

And when Dung Fletcher had greedily drunk the water, he had also ingested a vial full of the Syrup of Hellebore. But fortunately – or unfortunately, as one might say in the future – the water had been distilled. So the Syrup's effects took more time to show themselves, but they still somewhat did.

_Syrup of Hellebore is toxic, and can cause symptoms ranging from vertigo to cardiac arrest._

Dung had been just suffering from the primary symptoms of Hellebore poisoning before he had been fed the antidote, a Bezoar.

_A Bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. It is very useful in case of plant poisoning, especially if the plant has been ingested, because the bezoar will be most effective inside the stomach of any creature suffering from poisoning._

_The reason for this is that a bezoar inside a goat's stomach protects it from poisons when it accidentally ingests any poisonous plant while grazing. Hence it will work most effectively if it is in the stomach of almost any creature suffering from poisons, especially plant poisons._

Since Dung had been poisoned with a plant poison, bezoar was the most effective and easy to obtain solution currently available. Harry had one in his potion box, but he forgot to take it with him in all the excitement. (Harry immediately swore to himself that he would not make such a stupid mistake again.)

It had been an extremely lucky coincidence that he had found the potion box. If he had not, his plan would have most likely failed, since Dung would have been dead; and he needed the Dealer right now.

As his thoughts turned towards the potion box, Harry decided to see who the box belonged to. The thing was obviously very costly, as it was made of high-quality wood and was enchanted with Undetectable Space-Expansion Charms, and those things were always costly. So it must have belonged to a member of the Black Family, as most of the Order members did not have that sort of money, and even if they did, they would not leave such a costly thing lying around to be wasted. And since it looked old and still the enchantments were still functioning, the thing would have been extra costly for the more powerful enchantments.

Walking over to the table where the box was currently resting, its lid closed, Harry once again took the cloth and started dusting it, but stopped when the dust entered his nose, irritating it and making him sneeze very loudly. Rubbing his nose, Harry threw the cloth away and decided on using Dung's wand to clean the box. Picking up the wand, Harry thought of a suitable spell. Then the memory of Neville's _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_ came to his mind and Harry remembered that embarrassing incident from last year's train journey. He recollected the spell that Ginny had cast, and remembered it to be a Household Cleaning Charm that Mrs. Weasley preferred to use in her kitchen.

"_Scourgify!"_

The dust that covered the entire box vanished in a second. "I love magic," remarked Harry.

Now that the box was clear of dust, Harry could see that it was shinier than he had previously thought. The wood appeared to be a darker shade now that it was liberated from all the dust. There were carvings of magical creatures all over the box. But in the centre of the box, visible for all to see was the Black Family Crest with its family motto 'Toujours pur' carved beneath it.

So his suspicions about the box's owner were true; it indeed belonged to a Black Family member. But the most curious question was 'Who does the box belong to?'

As Harry opened the lid in order to continue his examination of the potion box, he noticed something that he had previously missed in his hurry to find a Bezoar. He could see hundred of vials, and he had been correct in assuming that they contained potion ingredients and completed potions. But he had been wrong in assuming that they were now clearly past the maximum time limit for which potions and ingredients could be stored. Although a centimeter-thick layer of dust had accumulated on it, everything inside the box was perfectly preserved and ready for use.

And that was when Harry realized another mistake. In his hurry to get the Bezoar to Dung, he had not checked if the contents of the box were safe for use or not. He once again repeated his previous promise and thanked Merlin that Bezoars had no such time limit, for in the end they were just stones; sure, they were antidotes for poisons, but a stone is always a stone.

"That must have been one hell of a Stasis Preservation Spell," muttered Harry to himself as he once again looked at the box. "Whoever left it here was a fool to not realize its worth."

Looking at the box's contents, Harry saw many potions he did not yet know the names of. But there were many other potions in here that shocked him. He had no idea who left this thing, but whoever it was, Merlin bless his soul. The person had just made Harry's quest a lot easier. There were multiple bottles of Polyjuice Potions, Veritaserum, Ageing Potion, Dreamless Sleep Potion, Blood-Replenishing Potion, Pepper up Potion, Skele-Gro, Murtlap Essence, Bruise Removal Paste, Wound-Healing Potion and many other made potions that he could not identify. There were also small boxes and flasks full of ingredients used in potions. There were many others he could not identify as they had not been studied yet.

On seeing all these vials of pre-made potions, Harry suspected that the owner of the box must have been constantly involved in some fighting if he required such a vast array of potions to be available at a moments notice.

"Well, whoever it was, thank you. You certainly did me a huge favor," said Harry as he continued gazing at the box, his mind filling up with the ideas of how he could use these potions for his own goals.

Deciding to keep the box, Harry was about to close it when he noticed a tag being stuck to the inside of the box's lid. On it, written in a slightly slanting but neat handwriting, was the name of the owner.

_**This potion box belongs to**_

_**REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK**_

_**Of Slytherin House**_

As he tried to recollect where he had heard that particular name, Harry suddenly remembered what he had come here for in the first place.

Swiftly opening the box, Harry quickly snatched a vial of Veritaserum, along with a dropper for administering precisely three drops. Picking up Dung's wand from its place on the table, he made his way over to his Stunned victim.

Opening the cork of the vial, Harry put the dropper inside and extracted a small amount of the Ministry-controlled powerful Truth Serum known as Veritaserum. As Snape had once informed him, _"It is Veritaserum – a Truth Potion so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets."_

Holding his breath, Harry opened Dung's mouth and gently squeezing the dropper, he allowed exactly three drops to fall on the thief's tongue. Closing the thing, Harry waited for a few moments before deciding to wake the man up. It was time for the interrogation to begin. _'Let's get ready to rumble!'_ as Michael Buffer would say. Wand pointed at the Stunned man, he cast the counter-curse to the Stunning Spell.

"_Rennervate!"_

There was a flash of red light and Dung's eyes opened slowly; they were slightly glazed over. Recognizing the effects of the Veritaserum from fourth year, Harry proceeded with his questioning.

"What is your _full_ name?" questioned Harry, beginning the interrogation with the most basic question.

"Mundungus Fabian Fletcher," answered Dung, his voice dull and flat, his face slacked and his gaze unfocused.

"What is the name of the Order of the Phoenix's Headquarters?" was the next question.

"Number Twelve Grimmauld Place," Dung muttered.

"Who were you guarding today?" Harry asked the final identity-confirmation question.

"A boy. Name's Harry James Potter," came the reply.

"Why did you have the Portkey to the old Headquarters with you?" asked Harry, curious to know if his hunch about the thief was correct.

"The Por'key was with me so that I could come 'ere when the place 'as empty."

"Why?" Harry repeated.

"So that I could loot the place. Thos' fools of Dumbles' Order don' realize the worth of this place. If ah sell all the things in here, I coul' make thousands of Galleons," Dung said.

"To whom were you going to sell them?" queried Harry.

"The Goblins first, 'cause they give a fair price, but there is a lot of paper'ork. If not Goblins, then to Wiseacre in Diagon. Then ah coul' sell them to the Burgin's bloke in 'nockturn. But that guy gives 'ery less money."

"Name your contacts. No, wait a minute," Harry said, while he searched the room for a quill and parchment. Finding some on the desk near the window, along with a nearly empty inkpot, Harry quickly rushed back to Dung so that he could note down the names; these could be useful to him in future.

"Start speaking," said Harry, his quill poised over the parchment to start writing.

"Ah don' 'ave any," came the dull answer.

"_What?"_ exclaimed Harry. "You have _no_ contacts?"

"No."

_"Then what the fuck do you do in the Order?"_ asked Harry incredulously.

"I listen to tha talk in 'nockturn. That place is always full of weird people," replied Dung. "Dumbledore also assigns me Guard duty when I 'ave any free time. 'E's tha only one who supports me in tha Order."

"Why?"

"'E thinks ah am loyal to him. Ah only listen to him 'cause I owe 'im a Life Debt. And he 'as called on it, so I'm obligated to 'elp him an' his Order. And he can give me protection if I need it."

"Would you betray the Order, and leave them if there is a fight?" asked Harry, his voice deceptively calm.

"My life comes first. I'll do anythin' to save maself," Dung muttered. "An' I never signed up to be slaughtered by You-Know-Who. I'm not stupid."

"Yes, _we_ were the stupid ones to trust you," hissed Harry, carefully trying to control his anger, because he knew that if he lost control and killed Dung, his plan would be foiled. And now that he knew about Fletcher's position in the war, Harry knew that Dung would be next to useless in the Order. And since he had revealed his loyalties, Harry knew he would not have any qualms about killing the thieving traitor now. To use the old coot's favorite phrase, _'It's for the greater good!'_

"Give me the names of all the important Death Eaters that you know," Harry commanded. "And tell me of the communication spells that the Order uses in emergency."

Fletcher gave all the names he knew of, which were quite a few. Harry recognized a lot of them from the Graveyard. Dung also informed Harry of the special spell the Order members used to communicate, which Harry found was a different version of the Patronus, in which the Patronus Guardian carried the message to the recipient. He had asked for it so that he could send a message to anyone if he found out that their lives were in jeopardy.

Harry also asked Fletcher to give him the locations of where he hid all his money and other valuables. The reply shocked Harry.

"Ah hide ma things in tha Kitchen of the old Headquarters, as no one visits the place now. Only tha ruddy 'Ouse Elf is 'ere now."

So the old House Elf was here, huh? Harry was no longer angry at Kreacher and did not blame him for his Godfather's death; no, he now pitied the Elf. As Dumbledore had said to him last year, Kreacher was what he was made by wizards. _I do not think Sirius ever saw Kreacher as a being with feeling as acute as a human's, _were Dumbledore's words. Sirius had never been kind to the old Elf Harry knew that, and just like Dobby, Kreacher too resented his Master. Both Dobby and Kreacher were similar in that regard.

Now that he had no further use of Fletcher, Harry looked at the thief and said, "Well, it's been a pleasure knowing you, Mundungus Fletcher. I hope you don't mind me borrowing your wand, do you? I'm sure that you will have no further need of it, and it can help me a great deal until I acquire another proper wand. So goodbye. And do say my hello to the Devil. Also, tell him to book some people, because they are soon going to need a new place of residence : Hell."

With that, Harry raised his _'newly acquired'_ wand and once again Stunned Fletcher. Oh, no, death wasn't going to take him so soon. He would die slowly as a payment for his mistakes.

_Harry Potter does not forget; and he definitely does not forgive._

* * *

The Kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was in the basement and accessible through a narrow staircase at the end of the entrance hallway. The kitchen was a cavernous room with a large fireplace at one end and a large wooden table in the centre. There was also a large pantry and a small room used by Kreacher as a bedroom.

And currently, Harry was standing in the said kitchen and searching for the loot that Fletcher hid in the room. As he slowly searched the entire room, Harry noticed that there was nothing ever remotely looking like a treasure. He was sure that Fletcher could not lie under the influence of the Veritaserum, so the loot must be here in the kitchen. But it was not there and Harry knew that no other Order member would be foolish enough to visit this place without the old reprobate's orders. So there was no chance of anyone else stealing the stolen goods. Unless. . .

"Kreacher!" called out Harry, hoping that the old Elf was still in his small room, though he knew that Kreacher might not answer his call as he was not family.

There was a loud crack and the old House Elf appeared; his snout-like nose, large bat's ears and enormous bloodshot eyes were still the same, as well as the ever-present filthy rags that he wore as clothes.

"What does Master need?" croaked Kreacher, and he bowed low, muttering to himself, "Filthy half-blood, back in my Mistress's house, sullying the house with his presence."

Harry for his part was shocked. Kreacher had called him 'Master' and he had heard his call. Still shocked, Harry heard what Kreacher was muttering to himself.

"Shut up, Kreacher," said Harry, his tone serious.

Kreacher immediately quieted, which again surprised. He knew that Kreacher had only followed Sirius's orders because he had no other choice; the Elf did not even listen to Tonks's orders, and the Metamorphmagus was a part of the family, though not on the Family Tree. Deciding to ponder on that later, Harry continued with what he had initially summoned Kreacher for.

"Kreacher, where are all the valuables that Mundungus Fletcher brought to this Kitchen?" asked Harry.

At first Kreacher looked like he wouldn't answer, but then he started speaking. "Thief Fletcher hides all the things here. But the thief tries to steal the Family things, and Kreacher does not like that. So when he goes away, Kreacher hide it all in the Storage Room of the house."

"And where is this Storage Room?" Harry asked, wanting to see for himself if there was anything useful there.

Now Kreacher was struggling very hard and it was clear that he did not want to answer the question. But he had to follow his Master's orders and so he answered, "Storage Room lies behind the Family Tapestry."

"Then how come Sirius never knew about it?" Harry asked, as he knew that his Godfather had no knowledge of said room. If he had any clue about it, Sirius would have done his level best to get rid of everything inside the room.

Kreacher had by now quit struggling and was answering the questions as best as he could. "Manor Magic hides it from everyone. Only family knows."

Harry was puzzled; wasn't his Godfather a Black? So he asked the old Elf, "But Sirius was a Black, wasn't he?"

"Old Master indeed be a Black, but he be disowned. So he is family only in name," said Kreacher as he looked up at Harry.

"But why didn't he know of the room's existence?" queried Harry as he seated himself in a kitchen chair so that he could look Kreacher in the eye while speaking.

Kreacher too decided to sit follow his Master and sat down on the floor. "Only adults of family know of the place. Old Master leave the house before he be an adult. So he does not know."

Harry was in deep thought. "So why are you telling _me_?"

"Because you are now Master and you be an adult since last year."

The answer startled Harry. He had no knowledge of such things; he thought he was still underage. "How is that possible? I thought that wizards came of age at seventeen!"

"That be true, Master. But you be tried by a full Wizengamot at your trial, which is only for adults, so in all essence, the Ministry declare you as an adult."

"So I can use my wand?" Harry asked, quite excited at the possibility of using his wand without a warning from the Ministry.

"No, Master can't." This shocked Harry.

"Why not? Just now you said that I was declared an adult, so why can't I use it?" exclaimed Harry, now even more confused.

Kreacher sneered in clear disdain. "Foolish Master. You be declared adult, true, but that is only unofficially. You need all papers to be an official adult, and that be when the Ministry removes the trace from Master's wand."

Harry was quietly thinking of the implications of the Elf's previous statement. He was unofficially an adult, so if he wanted, he could make decisions for himself and no one could object without proper reasons. But if he wanted to use his wand – which he did – then he would have to go to the Ministry and sign official papers. And then the whole world would know that he was an adult, because the Ministry employees couldn't keep their traps shut. And he did not want anyone to know this so that they could create obstacles in his path. Finally, Harry decided that he would continue to use his unofficially declared adult status to his advantage so that no one else could suspect him for doing things that only adults could do.

"Kreacher, how do you enter the Storage Room?" Harry suddenly asked.

Kreacher hesitated only for a second before answering with a wicked smirk. "You need to tap your own name of the Family Tree to reveal the door. But new Master's name not be on the Tree, so he can't open the room."

"We'll see about that," Harry answered dryly as he left the kitchen to return back to the Drawing Room, where the Black Family Tree was present.

* * *

The Black Family Tapestry had been in the family for close to seven centuries. It hung the entire length of the wall opposite to the fireplace and it looked immensely old; it was faded and looked quite frayed. Nevertheless, the golden thread with which it was embroidered still glinted brightly enough to show a sprawling Family Tree dating back to as far as the Middle Ages. Large words at the very top of the tapestry read :

_The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_

'_Toujours pur'  
_

Harry was watching the huge tapestry depicting one of the most dangerous families of Dark Wizards. There were many small, round, charred holes in the tapestry similar to cigarette burns. These, Harry knew, used to be the names of the Black Family members who were somewhat decent, who had been later disowned.

Examining the Family Tree, Harry saw many names that he recognized from the school. But what he was currently searching for was the name he had read on the box : '_Regulus Arcturus Black_.'

There was one Regulus, but his middle name was not the same. There was also one Arcturus too, but that had been someone's first name. Searching a bit further, Harry nearly reached the bottom of the Family Tree, and he saw that there was one name that matched the one on the box. And Harry was surprised to see that the one name belonged to Sirius's brother, who Sirius according to Sirius had been a Slytherin and also a Death Eater.

**. . . "I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to". . .**

**. . . "My idiot brother, soft enough to believe them". . .**

**. . . "No, he was murdered by the Dark Lord". . .**

As Harry traced the line from Regulus to Sirius, he noticed that there was something new on the tree. Though Sirius's name was still charred, now there was a bright silver line connecting his Godfather to something else. And that something was a name. More specifically, it was _his_ name.

The name _Harry James Potter_ was glowing brightly in the wand light and it was connected with a silvery thread to the name _Sirius Orion Black_. And his name was again connected to another name on the Black Family Tree with a dull golden thread. The name read _Dorea Andromeda Black,_ which was connected by a double line to _Charlus Percival Potter_.

Harry searched for the name of his parents in hurry but he could not see them. Desperately trying to under the situation, he quickly called Kreacher.

"Yes, Master, how may Kreacher serve?" Kreacher asked, his head bowed so low that it nearly touched the floor.

"Kreacher, why is my name on the tree?" asked Harry urgently.

Kreacher looked up in shock. "Master's name on the tree? Master cannot be on the tree! Kreacher must see!" shouted the Elf as he quickly rushed forward to look at the tree. Harry just watched in shock as Kreacher intently studied the Family Tree.

"This not be possible! You be Mistress Dorea's grandson! Kreacher's mother used to tell him about her. She be a good Mistress. She be married to your grandfather Master Charlus, and now you be her grandson. And since you be Old Master's Godson and Heir, you be in the family, and you be the last Black!"

"How is that possible?"

"Black Family only has male Heirs. When a female marries out of family, they be not considered as potential Heirs, as they could betray the family secrets. Old Master be the last Black before you, and since you be the Godson of the last male Black, and also have Black blood in you, now you be the last Black. Now you be the New Master!" exclaimed Kreacher, his eyes alight with joy.

"So the Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestranges will never get their hands on the Black Family things?" asked Harry, wanting to make sure that his enemies got nothing from him if he died.

Kreacher looked a little sad, but he still had the happy glimmer in his eyes. "No, they do not, as they be from cadet branch, they married out of family and because they be females."

That was when Kreacher noticed the other person in the room. "Master, the thief Fletcher be here."

"Yes, I know that, Kreacher. I was the one who tied him up," said Harry, running his hand through his messy hair.

"May Kreacher as why, Master?" the Elf asked, his voice now curious.

"I nearly died because of him last year, Kreacher," said Harry, eyeing Fletcher with distaste. "He also does not care about the Order, or anyone else for that matter. And he was also going to steal everything from this house tonight. So I poisoned him, cured him, questioned him and Stunned him. I'll dispose him off later. He is of no further use to me."

"Master now talks like a true Black! Master Orion once told Kreacher : _Take their money and then kill them_," said Kreacher his voice filled with awe. Then he continued, his tone hopeful, "Kreacher likes the new Master. He would like to help. It will be an honor to serve you. Kreacher will also talk to Mistress to allow him to have the Black Family Heirlooms. They will help protect new Master."

Harry had never expected to hear Kreacher talking to anyone respectfully, and he had never expected such an offer. But he would be a fool if he refused. He knew that though the Blacks were an old Pureblood Family, they did not have much in terms of monetary assets. What they did have was a wide range of ancient and powerful artifacts that they had collected over the centuries. And they also had contacts in various places. The family was considered powerful because the Black name itself carried a weight that a few others had.

The Malfoys were rich, true, but they were nothing compared to the Blacks. Even the Dark Lord had respected them, as he had not killed Orion and Walburga Black when they had not joined his cause directly. He had killed many powerful Purebloods who did not join him, but even he did not dare kill the two elder Blacks. Regulus had been killed only because at the time of his death, both of the elder Blacks were dead. And now even though the many contacts of the Black family had perished, the small amount of money and the large number of artifacts were still as good as ever.

And this was what Harry was going to use. Now that Kreacher was eager to serve him, the Elf could convince the portrait of the old Black Matriarch that by helping him, she could avenge the death of her two sons; as the Dark Lord had not kept his word about not killing any members of the Black Family.

If Harry was allowed to speak to her, he had a very good idea about how he could persuade her to help him. Walburga had been of the main Black line and she knew that the cadet branch lines were always looking for an opportunity to kill the main line so that they could become the new main line. If he convinced her that Narcissa and Bellatrix had killed Sirius, and that they had also convinced their Master to kill the youngest Black Heir, Regulus – who had been her favorite son – so that their branch line could take over as the prominent Black line, Walburga would be pissed and she would demand their heads on a silver platter. And if she was led to believe that to fulfill her wish, she would have to help him in obtaining all the useful help he could get, she would do it. Though a portrait, she had been given all the memories of the long-dead Walburga Black, and so she had the knowledge as to where the powerful Heirlooms were concealed.

"Kreacher, do you know where the Black Heirlooms are?" Harry inquired.

"They be in the Storage Room. Blacks do not trust Goblins. Goblins be good in business, but they be no good in keeping secrets. The Black Vault only contains some money and less useful things. Older Masters hide everything in the Storage Room, even the money," said Kreacher, his tone now respectful.

"Well, we can do that after we dispose this filth," Harry said, looking towards the thief in distaste.

"Can Kreacher help, Master?" asked the Elf excitedly, before adding, "Thief tries to kill new Master, and Kreacher do not like that."

Harry hummed to himself thoughtfully, but did not answer. On one hand, he wanted to kill the cretin with his own hands, or with magic. On the other hand, he did not want to dirty his hand or wand by touching the thief. He could always dose him with the most painful poison. But that would just kill him easily with little suffering. And Harry wanted him to suffer.

Wandering over to the potion box with Kreacher following him, Harry said to the Elf, "This box belonged to Regulus, Kreacher. And it has many useful potions. Do you know why it is filled with these potions?"

"Master Regulus was very intelligent and cunning. He always left on trips and came back with many new boxes. Kreacher not know what they contain, but they be in the Storage Room if Master wants to see them," Kreacher replied, his voice melancholy.

Harry did not know if Kreacher and Mrs. Black knew that Regulus had been killed by the Dark Lord. So to assuage his curiosity, he asked, "Kreacher, do you know who killed Regulus?"

"No, Master. Kreacher only knows that Master Regulus went out one day and did not come back. And then Kreacher saw the Tapestry and it told him that Master was dead," said Kreacher softly, his eyes brimming with tears.

"Regulus was killed by Voldemort, Kreacher. Voldemort betrayed the Black Family," said Harry, his voice so low that it was almost not audible.

"No," whispered Kreacher in horror, "No, that is not possible! Master Regulus was a loyal follower! Why would the Dark Lord kill beloved Master Regulus?"

"That I do not know, Kreacher. But I do know that Voldemort killed Regulus because he had learnt some of the Dark Lord's secrets; ones that Voldemort never told anyone about. That must be why Voldemort killed him," said Harry, and while that was not true, it was also not an outright lie. There must have been a reason why Tommy chose to kill Regulus, and with that break his promise.

Kreacher just stared at the Tapestry wall, a few tears escaping his eyes at the thought of his beloved Master Regulus. (Harry turned away so that he did not have to watch the old Elf cry.) But then Kreacher's tears stopped and his eyes darkened in hatred. His Master and his family had been betrayed by the Dark Lord, of whom they had all thought of as a great wizard. But he had turned out to be an oath-breaker. He had killed Kreacher's Master once, but Kreacher would not allow the Dark Lord to kill his new Master. With an oath to help his new Master in any way he could, Kreacher once again turned to Harry.

Meanwhile, Harry had been busy rummaging through the potion box, looking for something. Finally letting out a sound of satisfaction, he pulled out his hand out of the box. In his hand was a flask filled with a yellowish green liquid, the stopper made of brown wood. The bottle was enchanted to be unbreakable.

Harry handed the flask to Kreacher, who gingerly took it, being very careful in not opening or dropping it.

"Kreacher, what I want you to do is feed the contents of this flask to Fletcher. Then leave him in Knockturn Alley where someone can find him," ordered Harry.

"Master will not kill the thief?" asked the Elf, disappointed.

Harry smirked. "Oh, no, Kreacher. By the time anyone finds him, he will be dead. I just want to send this body as a warning to all of the Wizarding World. They have to get their morgue and Hospital prepared. Because we'll be sending them many others in time."

Kreacher also smirked. "Master is very good. Master's enemy shall fall. Kreacher will help as much as he can."

Harry looked at Dung. Though he knew that there were very few chances of Fletcher surviving this, but he would not take chances. Pulling out Dung's wand, Harry pointed it at its owner.

"_Rennervate!"_

The thief woke up with a jerk. As he tried to collect his thoughts, he opened his eyes to see the tip of his wand pointed between his eyes. Going cross-eyed to keep it in sight, he did not see the holder of the wand mouthing a spell.

"_Obliviate!"_

There was a brief flash as a bolt of bluish-green light and hit Dung right between the eyes. The man's eyes went blank as his entire mind was erased by the Memory Charm. Now he was nothing more than a vegetable, which was not a demotion from what he was before.

'Thank you, Lockhart, even if you were a peacock,' Harry thought to himself.

"Kreacher, you may proceed. Also, do me a favor and remove the traces of all magic being used on him."

Kreacher did exactly what he was told to do. With a snap of his finger, a dim white light covered the thief before vanishing; removing all magical traces being used on Dung. Gripping the man's tattered cloak in one hand, Kreacher bowed to his Master before disappearing from the Drawing Room with Mundungus Fletcher.

Smirking to himself, Harry had only one thought in mind.

_Watch out, Wizarding World, there is a Hunter in town._

* * *

**AN :** No, Regulus did not learn about the Horcrux, though the Locket and the cave still exist. They will be included in my story. What he learnt was something else, and you will know what it is shortly. But you can always keep guessing.

Harry is still learning and is prone to make mistakes. He may also come off as cruel, but he is cruel only to enemies. That is a requirement for a Hunter. And this is not a "Harry goes to Goblins and gets money from parents and Sirius and many others" story. Miss Rowling herself said that Blacks, Potters and Malfoys were wealthy families. And that is what I am using.

In this story, Kreacher is a bit similar to Dobby. He is loyal, but he uses his common sense. Meaning that instead of jumping to take a knife in his chest, Kreacher will instead use his magic to deflect the knife. But Dobby will be entering the story too; it will just take some time. And he will also be a bit more intelligent.

Can someone guess what was in the flask?

I know that I promised an omake in this chapter, but I have decided that I will make it a separate story and also add a few of my other written omakes.

Also, thank you for all the reviews. I hope that you like this chapter. To new readers, please read the whole story and tell me if you have enjoyed it. **Please Review!**

I would also like to hear your opinions about possible pairings. I have a few in mind, but I would still like to know who you would like with Hunter Harry. Also, should Harry have single relationship or multiple? And please, no slash; I just can't write it.

There is a pairing poll on my profile page! Please visit and Vote!

May your sword stay sharp!


	6. The Black Family

**Harry Potter – Hunter**

**By : Andor Swiftblade**

**Disclaimer** : Harry Potter belongs to the beautiful blonde lady famously known as J K Rowling. No monetary gain is being made from this story. Any non-Canon characters belong to me. Certain creative terms which have been used probably belong to some of my brilliant fellow fan fiction authors. (I don't really know to whom, so please forgive me.)

**Summary** : After the DoM Mayhem, Harry decides that he is tired of the Dursleys and figures that he wants to take a unique summer job. Follow him as in his bid for freedom, he has the adventure of a lifetime. Post OotP. Probably AU. Might include crossovers.

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_**A mind is not a bed to be made and remade.**_

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_**Seek and you shall find what you want.**_

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_**The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.**_

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_**However harmless a thing is, if the law forbids it most people will think it wrong.**_

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_**Knowledge may give weight, but accomplishments give luster, and many more people see than weigh.**_

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_**An injury is much sooner forgotten than an insult.**_

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_**What good is an ounce of justice in an ocean of shit?**_

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*** * * * * Chapter 6 * * * * ***

***|* The Black Family *|*  
**

When Walburga Black had been alive, she had been a happy woman. Her husband Orion Black was a very successful business man and her father-in-law – Arcturus Black III – had been awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class for 'services to the Ministry'. In truth, he had given a bribe to the Minister to ignore the current uprising in the Pureblood faction, and to also turn a blind eye on the actions of their charismatic leader, who went by the name of Lord Voldemort.

After her husband's father had passed away – in 1960, sleeping peacefully in his bed – her husband had been the oldest Black of the main line and hence in command of the family. She and her husband had united all the branches of the Black Family in feud with each other and brought the other cadet branch lines into the inner fold so that they could fill the ranks of the rising Dark Lord in order to rid the world of all the Mudblood filth and the blood traitor scum, so that the Purebloods could take their rightful place as the unquestionable rulers of the whole world. They would kill all the Muggle scum and enslave the Mudblood and blood traitors. They would rid the world of all the half-breed monsters so that this world would become cleaner and better. They would make this world a Heaven for the Purebloods.

Orion and Walburga Black had been the leaders of the Black Family and everyone respected and feared them. The Black name – which was already formidable – had become even more feared when Orion and Walburga took the reins of the Black Family. Using the resources available to them, both of them had helped the Pureblood cause in any way they could.

When their two sons – Sirius and Regulus – had been born, the two elder Blacks had been elated. They now had two Heirs who would bring wealth and renown to the family. But their eldest had turned out to be a disappointment. The first Black to be sorted into Gryffindor house at Hogwarts in centuries, Sirius had brought great shame to the family, especially to his parents.

But when Regulus had entered Hogwarts, he had been sorted into Slytherin. Walburga had been sure that it would be Regulus who would succeed her and Orion. He had been such a talented boy. Good at Quidditch, an expert Potioneer and an above average student, Regulus had all the qualities required to be a Black Heir. Sirius on the other had been a scoundrel, wrecking havoc all over the castle with his idiotic Gryffindor friends.

At sixteen years of age, Sirius had run away from the family, and in her fit of anger, she had blown his name from the Family Tree, disowned him and forbade any Black Family member from communicating with the traitor.

But then tragedy had struck in the year 1977, when Orion had suddenly died one night in his sleep. He had been a healthy person, and he had displayed no signs of any maladies affecting him. So no one knew why he had suddenly passed away in sleep. Now Walburga had been left with the responsibility of the Family Head. She had agreed and she continued to look after the family, taking special care of her precious son Regulus, for she knew that he was the only hope for the main line to survive. She had to protect him from everyone.

When he was sixteen, Regulus had joined the ranks of the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord's strongest supporters, the Pureblood Elite. Though Walburga had been happy to see her son happy, inside she was numb, as if she had been petrified. There had been a reason why she and her husband had not joined the ranks of the Dark Lord, even though they had supported him. There had been a reason why both of them had united the Black Family cadet branches and had encouraged them to join the Dark Lord's ranks.

Walburga and Orion knew that by joining the Death Eaters, they would set themselves up against the Ministry. And it was the Ministry that controlled the Auror forces, not the Dark Lord. They were Purebloods, and they also believed in the blood purity, but they were not stupid. That was why – knowing that joining the Dark Lord's ranks meant certain death or imprisonment – they had urged the other Black Family members to join the Dark Lord in his quest for power.

_Family. . . _It was true that those others had been family, but those same family members had tried to kill her parents, in-laws, her husband and herself, nearly succeeding many times. She still didn't know if the death of Orion and Arcturus had been natural or if they had been murdered.

But now her beloved son Regulus had joined them. He had not informed her of his decision to join them. Yes, while it was true that she knew of his desire to serve the Dark Lord and be a Death Eater, she did not know that he would make such an important decision without consulting with her. And she was not sure if she felt any surprise that the Dark Lord had branded him with the Dark Mark as soon as the boy had expressed his desire to join the cause.

Orion had always suspected that the Dark Lord was after the Black Family resources to fund his war and to further increase his own powers. In the beginning, Arcturus Black III had supported the Dark Lord because the powerful wizard truly desired for the Purebloods to be the rulers of the world. But when Orion and Walburga had witnessed to what lengths the man was willing to go to obtain power, they had decided that they could not allow him to get his hands on the family's vast trove of magical artifacts. If the man won on his own, then they would present him with some of the less useful artifacts to appease him. If he did not, that would only prove to them that the man did not have the capability to win this war and lead the Purebloods into a new era. It was true that they wanted the Purebloods to be the most powerful, but that did not mean that they wished to slaughter innocent children. Children were sacred to the Black Family, as there were so few. And when they had seen the Dark Lord kill a child so that he could torment the parents, Orion and Walburga Black had decided that they would not allow the Dark Lord to get his hands on the family fortune.

Regulus had now given the Dark Lord a perfect opportunity to exploit the Black Family, and Walburga knew that if she or Regulus refused, her son would be killed.

She had already lost one of her son, she did not want to lose another.

Suddenly, one day, she was surprised when Kreacher – her faithful House Elf – suddenly appeared in the room, with his eyes brimming with tears as he looked at her.

"Mistress. . . " whispered Kreacher, his voice filled with despair.

"What has happened, Kreacher?" asked Walburga, feeling suddenly very apprehensive about what news awaited her.

"Mistress, Kreacher be cleaning the Family Tapestry just now when Kreacher saw. . . Kreacher saw. . . " he stopped speaking as tears leaked out of his eyes, _"Young Master Regulus is dead, Mistress!"_

With a loud _crack!_ Kreacher disappeared from the room, leaving a shocked Black Family Matriarch behind.

Walburga could not believe what she had just heard. No, it could not be possible. Regulus couldn't be dead. . . No, it just wasn't possible. . . _No. . . _

Tears leaked out from the corners of her eyes as she tried to control her grief. Her son was dead. . . Her beloved Regulus was dead. . .

A loud cry of despair, grief and sorrow echoed all around the room. It was heard all over the empty house as Walburga let her grief at the loss of her precious son be known.

* * *

He had been killed by someone. Someone had killed her dearest son Regulus. And she had an inkling of who had done the deed. But she needed to verify her doubts in she wanted to proceed with her plans.

"_Kreacher!"_

The devoted House Elf appeared at once at her summons. He had a black towel wrapped around, his own way of mourning Regulus's death. Looking at her servant, Walburga knew that she would indeed need his services for what she wanted.

"Kreacher, have you been delivered Regulus's body? Did anyone bring my son's body back to us?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress. His body was near the Manor's entrance way, outside the Wards' range. Kreacher cleaned it up and let it rest in Master's room."

"Very good, Kreacher. You may go," said Walburga, and soon the Elf disappeared with a _crack!_

Deciding to confirm her suspicions, Walburga left to check on her son's body. When she arrived at his door, she hesitated briefly before entering the room. Seeing her son's body, she nearly lost her composure, but somehow she steeled herself and moved to him.

Slowly drawing her wand, she waved her wand over his body while muttering a Diagnosing Spell over him so that she could check for any residual spells or traces of magical poisons that may have been responsible for his death. What she found shocked her. There was no poison residue inside his body yet he had no residual magic of any spell on his body. It appeared as if he had died naturally. Just like her husband and father-in-law. And now she was even more suspicious about _Him_.

Concluding that it would be for the best, she decided to move to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, the magical stronghold of the main family, which had been enchanted with many powerful spells by her ancestors and had been strengthened by her father-in-law and husband. The place had been build to be the family's safe house in the time of crisis. And now was certainly such a time.

Preparing her son's body for burial in the Black Family Graveyard, Walburga thought about what she should do regarding Sirius. Though he had ran away, he was now the main line's only hope. He had been disowned – so he could not be brought back to the family again – and now she _needed_ an Heir. Though she wished she could make Sirius an Heir, she knew that it was not possible. But suddenly she had idea. She had disowned Sirius, but she had not declared that any child by him could never be a Black. So she would make it so that Sirius's child and Heir would become the Heir of the main line. But first she had to make sure that the child was not as foolish as her son had been, otherwise the family was doomed. She would make him pass through a magical test and a mental test before she gave him access to the Black Family secrets. The child would be the Heir, and he would avenge her son. He would use the family resources to bring the family back to the top of the Pureblood Hierarchy.

And for that purpose, Walburga Black decided to leave a portrait to carry out her wishes. The portrait would guide the child to save the family from its fate. Even before a powerful Dark Wizard who they had once supported, the Black Family would not admit defeat. The Heir would permanently end the threat to the Black Family's continuity.

'The Dark Lord will not get away with this!' she swore this one the grave of her son. 'The Black Family will have its revenge!'

* * *

When Walburga had been alive, she had been a very intelligent and cunning woman. Right now at the moment she was a portrait; a talking-shouting-insulting portrait, true, but a portrait all the same. But her portrait had been given all her life memories and had been enchanted to follow the wishes of the Black Matriarch. Her aim was to find the Black Heir and test him. If he was good enough, she would tell him her secrets so that he could bring the Black Family to her former glory.

Her current place of residence – Number Twelve Grimmauld Place – had been infected with cretins, and she had even seen Dumbledore in her family's stronghold. They had been talking of the Dark Lord's return. Walburga had been surprised, but she was not shocked. She knew that he would come back. He had done many Dark Rituals to make his body powerful, so that he would not die easily.

Sirius knew of this house as the family had lived here for nearly ten years when Sirius had been born, before they had moved to the Black Manor so that no one would know of this place. But now that fool had brought his companions into the house that her family had been trying to hide from everyone.

Sirius did not know what this house was concealing inside its special Security Vaults. This house was the Black Family's stronghold for a reason. The idiot had assumed that since this house was hidden with powerful spells, he could bring anyone here and they would be safe. The fool hadn't known that he would need her permission before he could take controls of the more powerful Wards that protected the house. She was the one who currently controlled all the Wards and right now they were functioning at a bare minimum. When they were fully activated, they could stop an Army from attacking the place. They had needed such powerful Wards as this house was the place where the Black Family hid all its wealth and prized possessions, ever since the house had been purchased.

Then that old fool Dumbledore had arrived. He had cast many spells on the house and tied them to himself. Didn't the old fool know that layering Wards on someone else's house and not tying them to the house and owners would slowly degrade the Wards? And the old dumb fool thought he was so clever when he had hidden the house. What if he died? Then the spells would fade as they were not tied with the house.

The house had become a hive, all manners of idiots buzzing around the place. One plump woman was trying to clear the house. There was a thief snooping all over the house trying to find things to steal; as if she would allow filth like him to touch the costly goblets belonging to her family for over five centuries. Then there was this one young woman who kept tripping all over the Troll leg umbrella stand in the hallway, which had a Tripping Jinx on it. And they said she was an _Auror_! If these were how Aurors were now, then the quality and standards of the Auror Academy had fallen quite a lot. There were many other kinds of filthy beasts crawling all over the house of her ancestors.

Her portrait kept screaming obscenities at them so that they would leave her house, because if this was really the Order of the Phoenix – Dumbledore's secret organization – then the Dark Lord would find out about them, and through them about this house. And if this house fell in the Dark Lord's hands, then there would be no stopping him, not without loss of many lives.

And there was no sign of Sirius's Heir. She knew that he did not have a child, but she did know that he had a Godson. But there was no new name on the Family Tree to tell her if Sirius had any possible Heirs.

Then one day she heard the news that Sirius was dead, and the Order was now leaving the house. There was not much sadness felt by her on hearing the news. She knew that she had never loved her son as she should have, but she had realized her mistake very late. Her son had started hating her and with her the entire Black Family. And now there was no hope for the main line Black Family to continue. Now all the power would secede to her brother. She too had been from the cadet branch line, but she had married into the main line, therefore she had been counted as a member of the main line by marriage. As such, she had no wish for the power to pass from the main line to a powerful branch family. But since Orion had no siblings, the power would pass to her siblings, as she had been the Head after her husband's death. Now Cygnus would be the leader of the Blacks.

And Cygnus could use the power of the Black Family and if he wanted, he could give away the entire family fortune to other families like the Malfoys and Lestranges, who had always envied and hungered for the wealth and power of the Blacks. But more than that, the power would be at the Dark Lord's fingertips to command, since Lestranges and Malfoys were the loyal supporters of the Dark Lord. And she had sworn on her son's grave that she would not allow that to happen.

Walburga was disturbed out of her musing as she heard a loud _crack!_ She opened her painted eyes to look at the interrupter. She saw that Kreacher, her ever loyal Elf, was standing before her with his eyes very bright. She had not seen the old Elf so happy since Regulus's death.

"What has happened, Kreacher?" she asked.

"Kreacher has found the New Master, Mistress! Kreacher found the last Black! Kreacher be so happy! New Master be very good! He be a true Black, Mistress!"

At last Merlin had heard her dying wish and presented her with an Heir. If she had been alive, she would have been jumping in joy at the news.

"Who is it, Kreacher? Is he powerful?" she asked, wondering if her Heir would survive if the Dark Lord attacked him.

"Oh yes, Mistress! New Master be very powerful! He already defeats the Dark Lord many times! He be very cunning, just like a true Black!" exclaimed Kreacher, a wide smile on his face.

On hearing that the Heir was cunning and that he had fought the Dark Lord, Walburga felt very relieved. At least she would not have to worry about him getting himself killed. He could survive anything if he survived the Dark Lord.

"What is his name, Kreacher? And where is he?"

"His grandmother be Dorea Black, who married Charlus Potter. His name be Harry James Potter. He be old Master Sirius's Godson. He be the Boy Who Lived, Mistress!"

Learning that the boy was the grandson of Aunt Dorea, Walburga was happy to note that the Heir had Black blood in him, and that too from the main line of the family, which was very good in her books. The Potters were an old Pureblood family, not as old as the Blacks, but definitely as famous as the Blacks, so that would do too. She was surprised to know that the child was Harry Potter, the one who had initially defeated the Dark Lord for the first time. But she had not known that the boy was Sirius's Godson. In his death at least, her son had done something for the benefit of his family. Now through his Godson, her family would have a chance to become the prominent and powerful family that it once had been.

"Where is he, Kreacher? I wish to speak with him. Bring him to me," the portrait ordered imperiously.

"Master is in the Drawing Room at the moment, Mistress. He be dealing with the thief Fletcher. And then Kreacher got to feed him poison and then Master tell Kreacher to leave the body in Knockturn Alley," said Kreacher, his body quivering with excitement. "Kreacher be very happy. Master know how to make thief suffer. Master removes his memory and then poisons him and then takes his money and then kills him. Master be very intelligent, Mistress. Master be a good Black Heir."

If Walburga had doubted the boy, no man, before, now she didn't have any doubts about him. He had already proven his will. Now she had to test him, before telling him the secrets. She would tell him about the Heirlooms.

"Bring him to me, Kreacher!"

* * *

Harry had been thinking about what he would do now. Dung was gone, most probably dead by now, his body lying in Knockturn Alley. He had taken a few hairs from Fletcher so that he could use Polyjuice Potion when he returned home, as he would have to show the Order member who would come for the next guard shift that Fletcher had been at Privet Drive the entire evening and that he had been poisoned after leaving the place so that no suspicion would fall on him. He knew that wizards were stupid, but not _that_ stupid. If Fletcher died on Guard duty, suspicion would fall on Harry. So he would take Polyjuice Potion when he returned to the Dursleys and he would be Mundungus Fletcher for an hour. He would greet the Order member who came for duty and then he would disappear. An hour later the potion would wear off and he could get back home. He knew that no one other than Mad Eye Moody could look inside the house and confirm his presence in the house. They would just assume that since he had not left the house, he must be inside. And he knew that the next guard would not look inside. Dedalus Diggle was an honest wizard, after all.

Sunk deep in his thoughts, Harry was therefore startled when Kreacher suddenly appeared into the room with a _crack!_ The Elf bowed low before looking up at him.

"Mistress Walburga would like to speak with you, Master Harry. Please follow Kreacher," said the Elf, his tone respectful.

Harry nodded and stood. As Kreacher started walking, Harry followed the old Elf as he was led through the house and to the infamous portrait of the previous Black Matriarch, Walburga Black.

The life-size portrait of Mrs. Black was still the most realistic and most unpleasant one he had ever seen in his life. Her skin was still yellow, her eyes a light grey, her hair tied back, and the ugly hat still on her head. Harry tried to ignore all that, but it seemed that the woman inside the portrait was not as stupid as everyone had assumed, because she had noticed his reaction.

"I did not have this portrait to look beautiful and pleasant, Child. This portrait has only one purpose : never allow the Dark Lord to take over the Black Family. And to do that, I have been given several enhancements from the normal portraits to carry out my purpose. But a side effect of the enhancements is that the paint will get degraded as time passes. But I have accepted that, because it will help me save my family."

Harry's respect for Mrs. Black rose a notch. He too was trying to protect his loved ones by doing all this, and just like Mrs. Black, he had accepted the consequences of his actions.

"I can see that you understand what I mean to say better than someone your age should," said Mrs. Black, her expressions unreadable.

"But when you have seen everything that I have in my short life, it is not as difficult to understand as one assumes," said Harry simply.

The lady in the portrait nodded shortly, but said nothing.

"Why did you ask me to come here, Mrs. Black?" asked Harry, his voice indifferent.

"You most probably know that you are now the Black Heir, do you not?" Mrs. Black asked slowly.

"Yes, I do."

"Good. Now what do you know about the Black Family?"

"I know what I was told by my Godfather – your son Sirius – and others. I know that the Black Family is an old Pureblood family. The family has been Dark for ages, and several of your family members have served, and even now serve, the Dark Lord. Your family is notoriously famous for spawning many Dark Wizards and Witches. You, Mrs. Black, and your husband, Orion Black, are of the main line. Those who served the Dark Lord are of the cadet branch families. They do not have much say in the Black Family politics. The real power of the Black Family lies within the main family, your family. You and your husband never openly supported the Dark Lord, but you did believe in blood purity. Your son joined the Dark Lord as a Death Eater when he was sixteen. Your other son, Sirius, did not join the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not directly kill you and your husband when you refused to join him."

"The Black Family has status and power in the Wizarding World," said Harry calmly. "But your true strength is not in money; it is in artifacts and Heirlooms that you have collected over the centuries. I have just now acquired the knowledge that all of those Heirlooms and artifacts are hidden in his house behind the Black Family Tapestry. I also know how to open it."

Walburga Black was shocked. The Heir was well informed. _Very_ well informed, it appeared.

"How do you know so much?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, I know much more than what I have just disclosed," said Harry, a slight smirk on his face. "Do you know how Regulus and Sirius died? Do you know who killed Orion and Arcturus?"

"W. . . What?" croaked the portrait. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, so you don't know. Pity. Let me inform you, Mrs. Black. I know who murdered them."

"Tell me!" screamed Mrs. Black, a slight tinge of hysteria in her voice. Even Kreacher, who was standing next to the portrait, was frozen in his place. Harry felt slightly guilty for telling them about this, but he knew that if he wanted the Black resources for his quest, he would have to do this.

"As you wish, lady. Orion and Arcturus were killed on the Dark Lord's orders. They were poisoned with neurotoxin poison extracted from magical plants. It appeared natural because these poisons would start working while the body was resting and the brain impulses in the nerves slowed down. In simple words, it means that the poison affected the person when they were asleep. Hence every one assumed that they died naturally and therefore no diagnosis was carried out to identify the proper cause of death." Harry paused, letting what he had said sink into his listeners. Mrs. Black was listening, her eyes blank, as if she was imagining in her mind the day of their deaths.

"I do not know the reason why he would want to kill the Blacks when they were some of his most powerful supporters, but I guess that's why he is a Dark Lord. They're all mental," said Harry, making a brief attempt at levity, but it had no effect. Sighing, he continued. "Regulus was not as easy to kill. When he found out that the Dark Lord was trying to kill him, Regulus was immediately on guard. Using simple poisons like the ones used on Orion and Arcturus would not work on Regulus. He was an exceptional Potioneer and he could detect any simple poison in an instant. So they had to feed him several poisons over the course of a year that would combine inside him and slowly take an effect, and it was not something that even a genius like Regulus would suspect. He was checking only for poisons, but he didn't check for many other simple things that could react and form a poison inside him. He had assumed that he would be poisoned directly. He had not counted for the Dark Lord to act cunning and subtle and that was his downfall. He died in 1979 when the poison finally took effect."

"Why Voldemort decided to kill him I do not know, but it was said that he had suddenly got cold feet and tried to abandon the Dark Lord. But as Sirius once told me, _'It's a life time of service or death',_" said Harry, remembering his conversation with Sirius from last year. "Before, Regulus had always been a loyal Death Eater, but I was told that when he discovered that the Dark Lord was willing to go to any lengths to win the war and defeat his enemies, he did not want to serve the man any longer."

Walburga's portrait was still quiet, not even moving inside the frame. Kreacher's eyes were glued to him, hanging on to every word he was speaking.

"Sirius was killed this year. He was pushed through the Veil, which is in a room that is known as the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries. He was pushed through the Veil by a spell by Bellatrix Lestrange. I do not know if it was done on Voldemort's orders or if was Bellatrix's sadism, but she was the reason that the Black family lost an Heir from the main line."

Walburga's mouth was slowly moving, as if she wanted to say something. She did not say anything, but her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"What do you, _personally_, think of that incident?" asked Mrs. Black.

"I believe that it was a plot by the Dark Lord to take control of _our_ family," said Harry, emphasizing the word 'our'. "I suspect that Bellatrix may have persuaded the Dark Lord to poison Regulus. And now if Sirius died, then the power of the family would go to Cygnus Black, who is Bellatrix's and Narcissa's father, and both of them are loyal supporters of Voldemort, even though Narcissa is not marked. Or it might be a plot hatched by all the cadet branch lines to snatch the power from the main line. They must have proposed it to Voldemort, who acted it out on their behalf since it gave the power to his supporters. They have always been envious of us, of our power."

Walburga nodded to what he was saying. It certainly made sense.

Finding an opening, Harry decided to pounce. "If you want, we can have our revenge. They killed our family, and Voldemort and his followers have always wanted to kill me. We can make them pay for their crimes against us, if you are willing to help me."

Walburga studied the child in front of her intently. She had to decide whether or not he was suitable for being the Heir.

"I will tell you the secrets of the Black Family. But before I do that, you will have to prove yourself to me."

Harry was surprised that she agreed so quickly. On hearing her condition, Harry was not surprised, for he knew that nothing in this world was free. If he wanted power, he would have to show that he was able to wield it properly.

"I agree with you, lady. And I will prove that I am worthy," Harry said, inclining his head a little as a sign of respect.

"Let us begin then," she said. "First answer me this : _Why_ do you desire power?"

"I desire power so that I can save everyone I love from the monster known as Lord Voldemort. He wants to destroy me, and he will hurt my loved ones to try and hurt me. The Dark Lord desires power too, but he desires power for his own selfish reasons," said Harry, his tone hard. "I do not desire power for the sake of power. My desire power for can be called selfish too, because I desire power for protecting _my_ loved ones, and that by protect them I'm protecting myself. But with that power, I can also help others. And I will."

"What would you do to win this war?" came the second question from the carefully observing portrait.

"Anything that is necessary. I just poisoned a thief – who was also an Order member – because he had endangered my life and was just as willing to endanger the lives of my friends. He was going to steal from this house – which is mine – and anyone who steals from me and mine has to pay the fine," said Harry, a steely glint in his eyes. "He did not feel any remorse that I could have died last year when I was attacked by Dementors. And so when he died, I felt no remorse or grief for the loss of _precious_ life, because I know I did the right thing and did this world a favor by disposing off that scum."

"Are you willing to sacrifice your soul for saving your loved ones? For doing the right thing?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"I have said before and I say again : I will do anything necessary to win this war and save my loved ones," said Harry, firmly. "If it requires that I sacrifice my life and soul so that many other innocents can life their life in peace, then so be it. I'm already damaged from my childhood. And I am willing to take much more damage if it means other children do not become orphans like me."

"I will tell you what someone once told me : _'There is a right way and an easy way. What matters is the way you choose.'_ And I have chosen the right way. And if it means losing my life and soul, then so be it, for I have been truthful to myself for however long I've lived.

"Are you willing to die?"

"Lady, I am a Potter and I also have Black blood running through my veins. The Sorting Hat said I could go to Slytherin or Gryffindor," said Harry. His lips twitched as he smiled sadly. "I have no wish to die. I will use my skills to kill my enemies. I will stab them from behind if necessary, because they would have done the same to me. One enemy dead is one more innocent alive. But I will not do so foolishly by endangering my life or anyone else's. As for my willingness to die, if my dying would destroy all evil in the world, then I am more than ready to die."

"Are you willing to use the Dark Arts and the Unforgivables?"

"What are Dark Arts? Why are they called that? Only because they kill people?" asked Harry suddenly. "Lady, magic is magic. The world cannot be split into Light Magic and Dark Magic. No one is totally Light and no one is totally Dark. And magic is just the same. We've all got both Light and Dark inside of us. What matters is what we choose to use. That's who we really are."

"I could kill people with a small pin if I wanted to. My hairs can be used to create a rope to strangle anyone. My nails can be used as claws. Anything can be used as a weapon. And that's what the Dark Arts are. They are mere weapons for us to use. What matters is how we use them. I am willing to use them for saving people. Can that be called Dark? People kill many times with simple spells to save someone, but that isn't called Dark, is it? But their mistake is that when they use simple spells, there is a chance that the enemy can get back up and attack them again. What I am doing is taking them down permanently so that they cannot get back up and hurt even more people."

"And the Unforgivables are the easiest way of taking someone down permanently. The Killing Curse has no counter-curse. The Cruciatus Curse causes the victim so much pain that they can permanently lose their minds. The Imperius Curse can be used to make someone jump off a cliff," said Harry, his eyes locked with the woman in the portrait. "I am ready to use them with the intentions of protecting myself and others. That cannot be called Dark, can it? When someone is fighting with the intentions of saving their life, and when they accidentally kill the attacker, that is not called Dark. Because if that is Dark, then we are all Dark, because everyday we are fighting the world with our lives to protect ourselves and those around us."

After that passionate speech, Mrs. Black just looked at Harry, not saying anything. Harry also stared back, unwilling to give any ground.

While all that was happening, Kreacher was looking at his new Master in awe. He had never heard someone talking so passionately about dying for others. He respected his new Master even more now, when he said that he was willing to die to avenge his precious Masters Regulus and Orion.

"And what about blood purity?" said Mrs. Black, finally speaking after a long pause.

"Blood purity?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yes, what is your opinion about that?"

"Frankly, lady, that is utter rubbish," said Harry, causing Mrs. Black to look at him in shock.

"What?" she asked, her voice rising.

"Hear me out, lady, before saying anything," said Harry calmly before continuing, "You do know that Dumbledore is a half-blood, don't you? And he is considered to be the greatest wizard of the century. And the Dark Lord that all the Purebloods praise? Do you know that he too is a half-blood? And I'm a half-blood too. Dumbledore and I are even more pure than your so called Dark Lord, if we follow the blood purity non-sense, because at least our parents were magic users – in other words witches and wizards. But Voldemort's mother was nearly a Squib," said Harry, smirking at the look of shock on Mrs. Black's and Kreacher's face. "Shocking, isn't it? That the great and powerful Dark Lord is the son of a very weak witch. Well, here is something more shocking. His father didn't even have any trace of magic in his blood, unlike his mother. No, his father was a _Muggle! _Can you believe that? The Dark Lord's father is a _filthy Muggle scum_ as you Purebloods call it!"

If the situation hadn't been so serious, Harry would have laughed at the look of shock and horror on Mrs. Black's face. Kreacher's reaction was funnier, as his bat ears had drooped, his eyes had bulged even more out of their sockets and his entire body was just frozen, as if he had been hit with a Full-Body Bind.

"How can that be possible?" whispered Mrs. Black.

"Magic is magic, Mrs. Black. No one fully understands the workings of magic. That is why you should never discriminate on the basis of blood purity. It doesn't matter if your family has been magical since a millennium," said Harry before asking, "Did you know that there are more and more Squibs being born in Pureblood families than in normal families, which are made up of half-bloods and Muggleborns? What do you think is the reason? It's the inbreeding going on in the Pureblood families for centuries. You are not letting new blood into the family, considering them to be impure, but it is this new blood that will allow new pathways for magic to flow. If a family has the same blood for centuries, then the magic flowing through it would decrease with every generation and become stagnant. Right now the Purebloods are marrying their distant cousins, like yourself and Orion. But in a few generation, they will start marrying their own brothers and sisters. And there is a high chance that those children would be Squibs. And Pureblood families disown Squibs, don't they? Then what would happen if every child born is a Squib? Will they disown every single one of them? When they themselves are the reason for those Squib children being born? The child is never at fault for being born. The fault lies in the mother and father of the child, if any."

"And do you know that many of the so-called Muggleborns are mainly the descendents of Squibs who had been disowned from their Pureblood families because the families could not bear the shame of having a Squib child? Those so-called Muggleborns are in fact half-blood, and they are more powerful than the so-called Purebloods, because new blood has been introduced, and the little magic that a Squib has flowed into the new pathways as it was no longer obstructed."

"Is. . . Is this true?" Mrs. Black asked hesitatingly. After all that the young man revealed since he had arrived, she had very little doubt that he would lie to her about something so important. And what he was telling also made sense.

"Though no one has researched this, it is the conclusion I have derived after I read a few books in the Hogwarts Library, said Harry. "And if you don't mind me saying, I really believe that this is indeed the truth."

Mrs. Black took a moment to compose herself before she again looked at Harry.

"You have passed the test of mind and will. You have proven that you are knowledgeable and cunning. You know what power is, and you are not seduced by its wiles. You have a good heart, and I believe a heart was what the Black Family was lacking. Until now, that is," she said with a hint of smile on her face.

"I have decided that I will reward you with the knowledge of the Black Secrets," said Walburga. Harry started to smile when she added, "But before I proceed, you will have to show me your magical skills."

"And what would you like me to do?" asked Harry.

"Show me some powerful spells that you know," she said.

"For that I'll require my proper wand, as my borrowed wand is insufficient," he replied, sneering at the thought of using Dung's wand for powerful spells. He knew that if he cast a Patronus through it, it would not be able to bear the magical power of the spell.

Mrs. Black looked thoughtful for a moment before looking back at him. "Use the wand and tap it wherever I point on my portrait frame."

"What will that do?" asked Harry inquiringly.

"It will activate the Magic Suppression Ward that hides all traces of magic working inside the house. The Trace will probably activate, but the Ministry will not be able to track it."

"Can I use it for practicing more spells here?" Harry asked in surprise.

"No. It costs too much magical power from the Fuel Crystals that power the Wards. It will only work for a short time without causing damage to the other Wards. And then the Fuel Crystals will take quite a lot of time to recharge fully. Kreacher, you may leave." The Elf bowed before disappearing.

'What the Hell are Fuel Crystals? Never heard of them,' thought Harry as he pondered over Mrs. Black's reply.

"Alright, tap the Trace-free wand here, here, here and here in a clockwise direction first and then in anticlockwise direction starting with the left side," she instructed, and Harry did as he was told and tapped the places. Looking closely, he could see that there were faint Runes covering the entire portrait frame.

When he finished tapping, Mrs. Black said out loud, "Activate!"

Harry could feel a wave of magic wash over him. His entire body was tingling from the effects of the Ward activating, and his senses were on extra-alert. Swiftly drawing his wand, Harry wildly looked around for a while before calming down.

"That was weird," he said.

"Indeed," said Mrs. Black primly. "There is a reason why this house is considered a stronghold. Well, now you can show me those spells. Now use that wand over that wall there; it has been magically reinforced. You have thirty minutes.

Harry nodded and pointing his holly and Phoenix wand towards the wall and started casting all the important magical spells and curses that he felt were proper. Teaching the D.A. had been a great benefit for him as he had been forced to learn many more spells that the other members of the D.A. so that he would not embarrass himself in front of them. So he cleared his mind of all the useless thoughts and got into the proper mindset for powerful spell casting.

After casting some of the simpler spells taught at Hogwarts, and then the ones that he had taught the D.A., Harry decided that he could win Mrs. Black's confidence by showing her some of the more powerful spells that he could perform as well as show her his special power.

"_Serpensortia!"_

A large black snake exploded out of his wand and fell on the floor, ready to strike anyone who came near it. Harry slowly moved towards it. When it sensed his movement, it turned to face him.

"_Hello,"_ Harry hissed to the snake.

The snake stopped moving as it looked at him curiously. Harry slowly moved a hand towards it and when he made no move to attack, he slowly rubbed a finger on its smooth head scales. He looked up to see Mrs. Black looking back at him with a calculating look in her eyes. When she noticed that he was looking, she just nodded, indicating that he continue with the demonstration. Harry moved away from the snake and hissed, _"Thank you."_

The snake bobbed its small black head as it looked back at him. Raising his wand, Harry vanished the snake with the same spell that Snape had once used. _"Vipera Evanesca!"_

The snake vanished in a puff of black smoke and Harry cast the next powerful spell he knew.

"_Expecto Patronum!"_

An enormous silvery stag erupted from his wand and it galloped around him, searching for any threats to its caster. Seeing none, it approached him and Harry raised a hand to pat it. As he touched it, he felt the warmth of the stag moments before it dispersed into silver vapor. Mrs. Black was looking at him with some respect, and Harry knew why. Lupin had said that not even adult wizards could cast a fully corporeal Patronus, and yet he had done so at the age of thirteen, which had been unimaginable. So he knew that the Black Matriarch had gotten his hidden message. _I have power, but I use it with caution._

"A corporeal Patronus at this age? I'm impressed, Heir," said Mrs. Black. "I have been informed that you can also perform the Memory Spell. Now can you show me the Unforgivables? I know that you will be able to cast the Imperius Curse if need be, and your will is very strong. Very few will be able to resist it. What I wish for you to show me is whether you can cast the Cruciatus and the Killing Curse. Can you do it?"

Harry did not know if he could do it. He was not afraid of using them, but he needed a proper reason to cast one. It seemed that Mrs. Black could sense his hesitation, because she spoke up.

"I know that you do not wish to use them without reason, but I need to see the proof that you can cast them when the time comes, and not fail at it when it becomes necessary to use them," she said. "If you have trouble casting them, think of all the hate that you have. Think of Bellatrix and your hate of her. You hate her for killing your Godfather, don't you? Think about how she laughed in glee when he fell into the Veil. Think of the people she had tortured to insanity and death. Think of how many she people she has killed. Think of all the lives that she has ruined. Think, think. . . " she was now coercing him, her softly whispered words resounding in his mind. "Gather your hate, all of it. Think of causing pain to the mad woman. Imagine her withering in pain at your feet, begging for mercy. Imagine. . . " she trailed of when the black-haired wizard suddenly raised his wand – the lip glowing red – and pointed it at the reinforced wall.

"_Crucio!"_

A dark red bolt of energy erupted from the holly and Phoenix wand and it struck the wall. The wall which had withstood the impacts of a Reductor Curse started cracking from the force of the spell.

"Good, Harry, good," whispered Walburga, her eyes bright as she looked as the partially destroyed reinforced wall.

Harry was breathing quite heavily as the sudden rush of emotions left his mind and his body felt a little exhausted from using so much power. After a few moments, he looked towards the magically reinforced wall. There was a small burn the size of a Quaffle on the wall where the spell had connected with its surface. Spidery cracks ran all over the surface of the wall, spreading all around the crater created by the impact of the Unforgivable Curse.

"The Killing Curse now, My Heir?" came Walburga's voice. "Can you cast it? Do you need my encouragement?"

Harry shook his head to her final question and raised his wand again. He decided to move back a few paces in case his Killing Curse had a similar effect to the Cruciatus Curse that he had previously cast.

'Think, Harry!' he urged himself. 'Think of what Voldemort has done to you! Think of what he did to your parents! Think of all the innocents he killed in the war! How many children became orphans because of him, how many mothers lost their children, how many wives lost their husbands! Think of all the crimes his Death Eaters have committed! Think of how much grief he has caused over the years!'

As he continued his mental battle with his memories, Harry suddenly had a vision. He saw Voldemort as he was torturing a small child using the Cruciatus Curse while he forced the parents to watch. He saw Voldemort as he laughed as the child's parents begged him to stop, crying helplessly as their child was tortured over and over until the child was bleeding from the nose and had stopped moving. Its breathing had stopped, though the small body was still twitching morbidly even after life had left it, due to the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. Then Harry saw Voldemort as he turned his wand on another child and as he raised his wand to mutter the Killing Curse. . .

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

The wand buckled as the sickly green bolt of the Killing Curse left it and hit the wall exactly where Harry imagined Voldemort's head to be. The wall exploded into bits as there was a shower of plaster and mortar all over the surrounding.

Harry was still rooted to the spot, wand held tightly in his grip, the knuckles of the wand hand visible as they stood out on the pale white skin. He knew that this was not a true vision from Voldemort's mind, of that he was sure, but it had certainly looked real enough to make it seem so. He heard soft clapping and looked towards to source.

Walburga Black had risen from her chair and was clapping as she applauded him. "Wonderful, young Heir. You have proven that you can do as you say. These were without doubt the most spectacular effects I have ever seen when performing the Unforgivables. Truly spectacular."

Harry just nodded, feeling a bit winded.

"It is time, Harry Potter. I entrust the Black Family to you. Restore it to its former glory and use its power to destroy the traitors who have broken their promises. Fulfill my oath so that finally my soul may rest in peace," she said, her voice hoarse. She composed herself and once again sat down on her chair.

"I release thee. The Heir has arrived," Mrs. Black intoned as she clasped her hands together as if praying.

There was a bright flash of light that shone from the entire portrait frame. A moment later, there was a slight hiss as a section of the wall beneath the portrait moved smoothly upwards before disappearing completely. Only visible was a large dark hole where the wall used to be. Then a grinding noise was heard as a small stone platform came out of the hole. Once it came out entirely, the grinding stopped. It was half a meter long and made of black granite. Suddenly it started rising from ground and it did not stop until it was at waist height. The platform was hollow at the centre and in the groove there was a small onyx key that was sunk vertically in the stone, visible only because it reflected the light from the old gas lamps illuminating the hallway.

"Take the key, Harry, take it," urged Walburga. "Kreacher only told you what he knew about the Storage Room. He did not know about the key as he can enter using Elf Magic. When the door appears after you tap your name on the Tapestry, insert this key in a hole at the left bottom side of the door. This key is the Ward Key. You will need this key to activate the other powerful Wards," she informed him, before adding, "Be quick. The Magic Suppression Ward will be deactivating shortly. Use _'Deletrius'_ to delete the traces of the Unforgivables and all the spells that you used. Don't worry about the mess. When you fully activate the Wards, they will restore the entire house and clean it."

Harry quickly moved into action and he did as he was told. He first used the Deletrius Spell to clean his wand of the traces. After that, he headed to the granite platform and looked at the key. 'It's so small yet it has so much power. Just like the Philosopher's Stone,' thought Harry.

Picking up the onyx key, Harry was surprised to find that the key was substantially heavier than it looked to be. Lifting it to eye level, Harry examined it carefully, turning it over in his hand and watching as it reflected light. He was a bit surprised to see this particular effect as black color usually absorbed light, not reflect it. If he concentrated, he could almost feel the magic contained inside the small key, and now he was sure that this key was indeed powerful.

_'And if only the key for a door is so powerful,'_ Harry mused to himself, _'imagine how powerful the things on the other side of the door will be.'_

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**» Next Chapter :** Harry is about to enter the Storage Room. What secret powerful artifacts await him in there. And will he be able to get back to Privet Drive before Diggle arrives.

**» **In the next few chapters, Dumbledore will make an appearance. But he will no be evil, at least not in this story. He is just misguided and he always tried to do the right thing for the Greater Good. Unfortunately, his idea of greater good does not endear him to others.

**» **If anyone wants me to change Dumbledore's character, please inform me now, because he will be appearing soon and after that I cannot change him.

**» **And I'm going to use all spells available to me. Which means spells from books, cards, games, etc.

**» AN :** Why has no one has guessed the contents of the flask? In this chapter I was going to finally kill Dung, but then I'd have to do a time skip to get Harry back to No. 4, which would not be good. And this chapter also allowed me to show what happened to the Black family. Voldemort double crossed them and now he will pay. And now Harry has a legitimate reason to kill the Death Munchers, because he can say that he was fulfilling the oath of his Matriarch so that she may rest in peace. And this chapter was way too long for me to write. For all those Q&A, I had to think very hard, and finally I used the simplest idea.

**» AN :** This is a possible crossover fic, so I get to use powerful and advanced weaponry. Want me to make the **Fuel Crystals** into **Ancient Zero Point Modules** (**ZPMs**)?

**» **Has anyone gone to Salazar Slytherin's page on HPWiki? The guy really looks like a monkey!

**» **I have also opened up a poll on profile page for possible pairings. I want Harry paired with two girls, who they will be is up to all of you! And if anyone wants to imagine how Narcissa looks like in this story, think of **Naomi Watts**. Look at one of her pics before voting. And vote quickly, because I'll be closing the poll soon so that I can introduce the ladies into the story.

Thank you, all my readers and reviewers, for reading my story. But I still say that I need more reviews though!

May your sword stay sharp!


	7. The Storage Room

**Harry Potter – Hunter**

**By : Andor Swiftblade**

**Disclaimer** : Harry Potter belongs to the beautiful blonde lady famously known as J K Rowling. **ZPM** belongs to the **Stargate Universe**. No monetary gain is being made from this story. Any non-Canon characters belong to me. Certain creative terms which have been used probably belong to some of my brilliant fellow fan fiction authors. (I don't really know to whom, so please forgive me.)

**Summary** : After the DoM Mayhem, Harry decides that he is tired of the Dursleys and figures that he wants to take a unique summer job. Follow him as in his bid for freedom, he has the adventure of a lifetime. Post OotP. Probably AU. Might include crossovers.

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_**A man who has never passed through the inferno of his emotions will never overcome them.**_

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_**It is necessary only for the good man to do nothing for evil to triumph.**_

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_**Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.**_

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_**The only thing to fear is fear itself.**_

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_**Men talk of killing Time, while Time quietly kills them.**_

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_**What does not kill you makes you stronger.**_

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_**Wars may be fought with weapons, but they are always won by men.**_

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*** * * * * Chapter 7 * * * * ***

***|* The Storage Room *|***

The house of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was very old. Purchased by the Black Family Patriarch of the time, the house had been Warded very thoroughly by many powerful spells and enchantments. The memories of the location of the house were removed from the minds of the people who had constructed it. The neighbors thought that there had been a mistake in the numbering of the houses and that Number Twelve did not exist.

The house was Unplottable to anyone who did not know of its location and existence. It was not the complex Fidelius Charm, merely a simple version of it. But the simpler charm took more magical power to cast and maintain as it had no requirement for the Secret Keeper that a Fidelius Charm demanded.

The reason this place was so heavily Warded was because it was used as a last option in the time of crisis. The place was considered to be the safe house of the Black Family. Indeed, many of the younger members thought of it to be the ancestral house of the Black Family since they had lived in the house since birth. And it was also because there was the Family Tapestry depicting the Black Family Tree.

They did not know that what was behind the Tapestry was the reason why the house was built in the first place.

The Black Family Tapestry served as an entrance to the Black Family Storage Room, which was a simpler name for High Security Vaults. It was thus named so that no one, not even the children of the Black Family, would suspect that there was a hidden horde of artifacts and Heirlooms in the very house they lived in. But very few could access the place, even if they had prior knowledge of the place. The privilege was only for the main line of Black Family, which had the control of the Ward Key, a Key made of onyx which was responsible for controlling all the Wards of the house. A key that the members of the main line had protected with their lives, so that no outsider could get their filthy hands on the treasures of the Black Family.

That was where Harry Potter, the last Black of the main line and the current Heir of the family, was currently heading. In his hand was a small key made from onyx. It had a shine unto it that any normal onyx did not, a shine which indicated its special qualities. This key was the Ward Key, one of the most important artifacts that the Black Family possessed. The Key would allow the Wielder to enter the Storage Room, and it would also activate all the dormant Wards that – when fully activated – could stop an entire colony of Dragons from attacking and destroying the place.

'And that is, honestly, _awesome_!' thought Harry as he entered the Drawing Room. With a wave of Fletcher's wand, the hidden gas lamps ignited, bathing the room in bright yellow light.

Walking over to the tapestry, Harry stood still for a moment and just studied the thing before him. It was so skillfully woven that no one would suspect if there was anything behind the tapestry other than a bare wall. But on looking carefully, Harry could see that the Tapestry did not move even when touched. It was then that he realized that the Tapestry was not a Tapestry at all; it was just the wall that had Cushioning Charms on it to make it soft to touch, giving it the feel of soft cloth. It was an ingenious idea that no one else could even think of.

Harry smirked as he found his name. It was at the very bottom of the Family Tree and it was glowing softly, indicating that he was the current Head of the family. So Walburga had not lied when she said that the magic of the house recognized him as the Heir.

Kneeling down to look at his name, Harry raised his hand and reached out to touch the writing. Hand still extended halfway, Harry paused, wondering if he should stop or continue. The golden thread that his name was weaved in glimmered invitingly, and Harry decided his course of action. Tapping his name, Harry was surprised to feel that on pressing the small rectangle with his name, it was as if he was in fact pushing a button. The wall shimmered and rippled like a curtain, as if it was a breeze was moving it. Then before his eyes, the tapestry started melting into the wall, the Family Tree disappearing without a trace.

The wall was shining with a dim light being emitted from it. Suddenly, Harry could see the fiery outline of a door appearing on the wall where the Tapestry had been. The outline of the door shone a dark red, as if the entire length of the door was wreathed in flames.

Harry searched the bottom left of the door to find the keyhole for the Ward Key. And he immediately found it, because the keyhole was emitting a silvery blue glow. Key in hand, Harry quickly inserted it into the keyhole and moved back in case something happened.

At first he could see no change. But then suddenly, Harry could hear clicks of many locks turning as the entire door glowed a bright red while the key glowed a bright blue. As many colors started flashing over the door, Harry immediately drew both the wands, not willing to take a risk in this situation. Slowly the flashing lights reduced in intensity was the door stopped glowing. The key was still in the keyhole but it too was no longer glowing.

Cautiously approaching the door, his senses on high alert, Harry reached out to the Key and quickly snatched it out of the door. As soon as the key was removed from the keyhole, there was a slight hiss as the door immediately started sliding and disappeared behind the walls.

The storage room was entirely dark; not even the space a meter in front of him was visible. Wands in each hand and the Ward Key in his pocket, Harry carefully stepped forward. As soon as his foot crossed the threshold of the wall's boundary, he could feel a jolt of magic pass through him. Jerking, Harry retreated slightly and quickly assumed a fighting stance to prepare for any possible attacks from inside the room. Who knew if the Storage Room – a heavily guarded High Security Vault – had defenses set up like the Philosopher's Stone Chamber?

When nothing happened, Harry pondered on what he should do next? Should he try again? Should he step back and return later? No, the latter was not possible because he needed to activate the Wards that protected the house so that no one else could return here. And one of the followers of Tommy Boy – who went by the proper name of Severus Snape – had access to this house at the moment. And if he didn't activate them to full power, soon enough, many others would have access too. This would not be good for his continued existence.

Concluding that trying again was the better idea for now, Harry raised Fletcher's wand and whispered, _"Homenum Revelio!"_ When the spell indicated that there were no life forms inside the room, Harry lit up his own with a quick muttered _"Lumos Maxima!"_

Bright light erupted from the wand tip, showering the area in his immediate vicinity with the white wand light. Raising his arm, Harry flicked the glowing wand, launching a sphere of light into the air. The glowing sphere slowly floated into the room and hovered there, casting more light on the surrounding. When he saw discernable grooves along the upper side of the walls, Harry deduced that this room too had hidden gas lamps on the walls. As he waved the other wand in a sweeping motion, the gas lamps sprang to life, and for the first time, the entire Storage Room was visible.

Harry tried to control himself, but a gasp of amazement escaped him. The name _'Storage Room'_ did not do the place justice. For what was before him could not be called a room. It could not even be called a chamber. No, the place in front of him was comparable to the Great Hall in length and width and nearly rivaled it in terms of height. But it was not the size of the room that amazed him much; it was what the room was filled with that amazed Harry.

The room was huge, about the size of the Hogwarts Great Hall. The ceiling was quite lower than that of the Great Hall, and there was no charmed sky. Instead of the sky and windows, the room was lit with lamps and candles. There were candle stands at intervals and there were at least three chandeliers in the room, all covered entirely with candles, which were all lit. The lamps were in brackets along the wall, placed at specific intervals. All in all, the lighting of the place was strategically planned so that there would be no dark corners.

The walls were made of smooth grey stone. The floor was made of rough brown ones, obviously well worn. The entire room was filled with rows upon rows of wide tables, shelves and cabinets. Each one of them had labels on them to identify the contents. There were several large wardrobes at many places all over the hall. In one corner that was raised slightly above the floor, Harry could see several money bags filled with gold Galleons and he assumed that to be the place where the Black Family stored their money. There were several suits of amour, all of them fully armored with plate-armor and chain mail, each of them carrying multiple weapons. The small space occupied by them appeared to be a mini-armory. There were several shelves lined along the walls that were supporting several dusty tomes. Harry gathered them to be the books that the Blacks did not place on display in their Library.

There were many cabinets with glass-doors. They contained a variety of items like silver and golden goblets, large dinner plates, a collection of table utensils, as well as a lot of other things that Harry did not know the names of. But he did remembered seeing them in the house last year before they had been thrown away by the Order. Confused as to how they came to be here, Harry decided to ask Kreacher.

The Elf arrived at his summons and bowed deeply. Not bothering with trying to tell him off for that, Harry asked the question that had been troubling, "Kreacher, how did all these things come here? The Order threw them away, didn't they?"

"Yes, Master Harry, the Order be throwing them away. But Kreacher be finding them all and bringing them back here," said Kreacher, looking around the hall.

"You did well, Kreacher. Thank you for bringing them back here," said Harry sincerely.

The Elf shuffled a little in embarrassment as his Master praised him. "Kreacher be doing what he has to, Master, nothing else."

"You may leave, Kreacher," said Harry, his attention once again returning to the hall.

Kreacher bowed once again and disappeared with a loud _crack!_

Wandering ahead, Harry silently looked around the room, glancing at the objects in passing before moving ahead. He had entered this room for one purpose : finding the Fuel Crystals to activate the Protective Wards. That was what he was trying to find, and he was having quite a lot of difficulty in finding them.

Harry cursed himself for not asking Walburga about those Fuel Crystals. She had said that they were important for the functioning of the Wards, but she had not informed him of where to find them in this large and cluttered hall, nor had he bothered to ask.

As he neared the centre of the hall, Harry could see from over the medium height tables that the centre of the hall was not as jumbled up as the rest of the hall. In fact, it was clear of all the odds and ends in this room. Assuming that there must be a reason for that, Harry trekked forward to take a look.

As he cleared the maze of tables and shelves, Harry found himself at the centre of the Storage Room or Storage Hall, as he had started calling it. At the centre of the hall was a raised pedestal with a curved basin-like formation on it. The pedestal was made of a milky white translucent marble. The basin was made of a brownish metal-looking material and it was supported on the pedestal within claw-like structures that jutted out from the pedestal.

Inside the basin was an object that was shaped like a rough cylinder, perhaps twelve to eighteen inches in length, and approximately six to eight inches in diameter. The cylinder appeared to be made up of a yellowish-orange crystalline substance, with black etchings on its exterior. There were some smaller sections of the cylinder that were tinted red and green, but they did not appear to be separate pieces from the cylinder, as by visual inspection, the entire cylindrical object appeared to be a single solid roughly carved crystal.

Harry peered at the thing with curiosity. The thing looked quite weird in his opinion. It was made of many colored crystals that appeared to be fused together. When he extended his hand over it, he could feel the magic the cylinder had inside it, and the magic contained inside it was tremendous. He had no idea that such a small thing could contain so much magic. Scrutinizing the object closely, trying to make out its composition, Harry discerned that it appeared to be made from a different variety of quartz crystal – which was primarily yellow – and he knew that crystals were the best materials in which magic could be stored. So he assumed that this was the _'Fuel Crystal'_ that Walburga had mentioned, since the thing had so much magic stored inside it and appeared to be made up of crystal.

Relieved that he had found the Fuel Crystals, Harry looked around the basin and pedestal for a niche for the Ward Key so that he could activate the Wards. As he investigated the entire pedestal, Harry could see the yellowish-orange end of the Fuel Crystal that was inside the pedestal. Through the translucent marble, he could see that there was something that appeared to be similar to wires present inside the pedestal and that they were connected to the end of the Fuel Crystal. He was surprised to note that a notoriously Pureblood Family like the Blacks would have something like Muggle wires inside their house, and that too for protection of their house. But he concluded that if the Blacks could buy a house in Muggle suburbs to hide their possessions safely, then they could also have Muggle cables for protecting said possessions from everyone.

Feeling inquisitive, Harry once again summoned Kreacher to seek an answer to his query. The Elf once again appeared before Harry and bowed. "Master Harry called Kreacher?"

"Yes, Kreacher." Harry nodded towards the pedestal with the Fuel Crystal. "Is that the Fuel Crystal?" Harry inquired, wanting to confirm his assessment.

"Yes, Master," Kreacher replied.

"Why are there cables inside the marble pedestal, Kreacher?" asked Harry.

"Kreacher not know, Master. This is how the Fuel Crystals have always been since Kreacher knows of them," said Kreacher.

"Why do you refer to it as 'Crystals', as in plural?" asked Harry, confused.

"It be made up of many crystals; it appears to be one because it be held together by magic," said the Elf, before adding, "Kreacher be told that it be made and used by Great Wizard Merlin himself to protect his house."

Harry was surprised to hear that this was made by Merlin. But how in the Hell did the old Mage know what wires and cables were, when in fact they were invented by Muggles centuries after his demise?

As Harry puzzled over this slight conundrum, Kreacher suddenly spoke up. "Master, why have you not fully activated the Wards yet?"

Brought out of his brief silence, Harry looked at the old Elf and said, "I'm searching for the place to insert the key, Kreacher."

"Master, you have to press the Fuel Crystals inside the basin. When you be doing that, the key box will come out," the Elf informed him.

"Oh. . . "

Moving towards the Fuel Crystals, Harry reached towards the cylinder and pressed it lightly on the top. It appeared that the slight push was enough, as the entire Crystal slid into the pedestal until the slightly bulging outer shell of the top was the only part of the cylinder that remained outside the marble pedestal.

There was a slight whine from inside the pedestal as a small square box emerged from the side of the pedestal through a small aperture, where a portion of the pedestal had vanished. The box was attached to the pedestal through a cable similar to the ones on the inside of the pedestal. With a snap, the lid of the box opened. Inside the box, there was a groove that perfectly matched the shape of the Ward Key.

Harry grasped the small onyx Ward Key that was currently residing in his pocket. Removing it from the pocket, he placed it inside the groove and let go. The key fell smoothly into its groove and glimmer slightly before the lid of the box immediately closed with a snap. The box swiftly retreated into the side of the pedestal and the aperture sealed itself. It appeared as if the slot had never even been there.

Suddenly, the lights of the entire room dimmed slightly as the milky white translucent pedestal started glowing. The internal cables of the pedestal started emitted a bright blue glow as magic started flowing out from the Fuel Crystals through the cables and started powering the Wards. There was a sudden oppressive feeling as the magic in the room suddenly increased and the semi-active Wards started powering up.

Harry became very still as waves after waves of powerful wild magic flowed through the entire hall and through him as the Protective Wards of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place became active. Kreacher too was rooted to his spot besides his Master as he felt the magic pass through him.

Slowly, the oppressive feel of magic lessened and finally disappeared. As he became aware of his surrounding, Harry could hear a low humming noise coming from the pedestal. As he took a glance at the pedestal, he was surprised to see that the Fuel Crystals were glowing brightly with an inner light, bathing the metallic basin in a yellow glow. The cables inside the pedestal which were connected to the base of the Fuel Crystals were pulsing with a soft blue light, as if they had a heartbeat of their own.

"What are they, Kreacher?" whispered Harry, awe filling his voice at the strange but beautiful sight.

"Mistress once told Kreacher that they be Crystal Conduits," Kreacher whispered back, not wanting to break the magical moment by speaking loudly. "They be transferring the magic from inside the Fuel Crystals to the Ward Stones placed throughout the entire house. They be like the veins, and the Fuel Crystals be the heart."

"Ward Stones? What are they, Kreacher?" Harry asked, turning to look at the old Elf.

"They be the ones that take the raw magic and turn it into proper Wards. They be carved in different Runes, depending on the function of the Ward," informed Kreacher. "Every different Ward be having different Ward Stones."

"Is there a book on Runes and Wards here, Kreacher?" asked Harry, now intrigued by the subject of Runes. He had never taken the Ancient Runes class at Hogwarts, so he did not know that they were so important in the construction of Wards. He remembered Hermione talking about Runes during the O.W.L.s, something about mistranslating them.

"There be many in the Black Library," Kreacher replied. "If Master wants, Kreacher will fetch them."

"Bring me two of them, Kreacher, but bring the ones that explain the basic Rune theory," ordered Harry.

"Yes, Master," said Kreacher, and disappeared at once.

The lamps in the hall were still glowing dimly and there were very few lit candles in the candelabras around the hall. The chandeliers were all but extinguished. Harry assumed that this was the effect of the oppressive magic that had been affecting the entire Storage Room a short while ago. Dung's wand in hand, Harry once again flicked it; the candles relit and the gas lamps in their wall brackets ignited once again. The Ward Pedestal was still glowing, but not as brightly as before.

Kreacher appeared in the hall again with two books in one hand and a small duffle bag in the other. He held both hands out to show the contents to Harry.

"These be the two books that be the most simple, according to Mistress Walburga. Kreacher be asking her as he doesn't know about the books," said Kreacher hesitantly. "Mistress tells Kreacher to give Master Harry this bag. It be for keeping his books and other things that Master wants."

"Very good, Kreacher. Thank you," said Harry, smiling as he took the proffered items. "Can you tell me if this room has a collection of proper wands?"

"There be many spare wands that Older Masters had collected. They be near the money," Kreacher answered.

"You may leave, Kreacher."

The Elf bowed and disappeared as Harry turned towards the section of the hall where the Galleons were stacked in piles. He could get a better wand than Dung's and he could also stock up on Galleons in case he needed to make an emergency trip to the British Wizarding World's shopping hub, Diagon Alley.

* * *

After fifteen minutes of trying many of the collected wands, Harry's temper was swiftly rising with each failed trial. It was just like the day when he had been getting his first wand from Ollivander. None of these second-hand wands were working for him; even Dung's worked better than these. Harry could not understand why these refused to comply and work. The best result he had from one of these had been a few green and blue sparks; with the other wands, there had been no reaction at all.

Getting tired of trying all these useless wands, Harry gave up and went to the stacked Galleons. There was no use in wasting precious time trying these wands when there had been no result from most of them. And he had to get back to Privet Drive to masquerade as Mundungus Fletcher when the next Order member arrived to take the shift.

The Galleons, Sickles and Knuts were arranged in separate piles. Bags full of coins were kept on each type of currency. Harry reached into the uplifted area and snatched a few bags of Galleons, two bags of Sickles and one bag of Knuts.

Putting them in his new duffle bag, Harry noted that the bag was enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, an older type of the modern Space Expansion Charm used on bags and trunks. The problem with the older charm was that though it was Undetectable, there was no guarantee of when it would fail. And if it failed, it would mean that all the objects stored inside would be crushed as the bag shrunk back to its original size. As such, the charm had to be reinforced at regular intervals so that it did not fail. And it could be negated by a simple _Finite Incantatem_ Spell. Hence, most people preferred the newer Space Expansion Charm. It expanded the bag only up to a certain extent, but it did not have to be regularly reinforced. And it could not be negated by the _Finite Incantatem_.

Harry decided that he would use this bag only to store unnecessary things, not important ones. Those he would store in his own bag enchanted with the Space Expansion Charm.

Now that he had some of the essentials that he required, Harry convinced himself that there was still some time left before returning to Privet Drive, and so he decided to take a look at the armory of the Black Storage Room.

There were several pieces of weaponry that were scattered around the place. Harry knew that most would be enchanted or have poison on their blades, as it was common in the Magical World. He looked around for something that he could use without cutting himself up or poisoning himself.

There were many types of swords : Scottish Claymore, Standard English Broadsword, many Long swords, Short swords, Rapiers, Flamberts. There was even one Japanese Katana. Harry looked at it in amazement. Picking it up, Harry removed it from its sheath. It was made of steel and it was deadly sharp. Hilt in his hands, Harry swung the sword experimentally. It was very light, too light for his tastes. Harry knew at once that this was not his type of close-range combat weapon. Returning it to its place on the special stand, Harry once again recommenced his browsing.

There were many interesting weapons scattered around the small armory, and Harry picked up and tried quite a few of them. None of them were fit for his use, as they were not his style. And the odd thing was, Harry did not know what his own style was. But whenever he touched a weapon, something made him put them back. It was once again like the wand selecting from before. He wandered for five more minutes before becoming bored when he did not find anything more useful.

Deciding that he was just wasting more time, just like with the wands, Harry moved to leave the Storage Room. Walking past the shelves and cabinets full of miscellaneous objects and instruments, Harry arrived at the exit/entrance of the hall. Just as he was about to leave the room, Harry remembered that he had still not recovered the Ward Key from the Ward Pedestal. And he had no idea how to recover it, but that was not the problem.

Once again, Harry sighed and summoned the Black Family House Elf. Kreacher appeared once again with a _crack!_ and bowed. Harry just sighed and spoke once the Elf stood erect.

"Kreacher, the Ward Key is still inside the pedestal. How will I enter the room again without it?" asked Harry in a tired voice.

"The Key stay there until Master deactivates the Wards," said Kreacher. "Master will not need it as he can now enter the room by just tapping his name on the Tapestry. The Ward Key will not be needed now."

"Thank you, Kreacher. You may leave," sighed Harry. He was really bored now, and he had to get back to Privet Drive in an hour before the shift changed and Diggle arrived.

Walking out of the Storage Hall with the duffle bag in his hand, Harry once again found himself in the Drawing Room. As he turned back to look at the room, he only saw the Black Family Tapestry depicting the Black Family Tree. Deducing that the room must have sealed itself when it sensed his exit, Harry turned and walked towards the only table in the room, on which was the potion box that had once belonged to Regulus Black.

Opening the clasp of the box, Harry reached into the expanded box in search of the Polyjuice Potion, a potion which was necessary for the next stage of his plan. His entire right arm and head disappeared inside the box as he looked for the section of the box which housed the Polyjuice Potion. Finding the potion near the bottom, Harry picked up the small conical flask in which the thick, dark, mud-like Polyjuice Potion was stored. The potion stored inside was still bubbling at random intervals. The flask itself was charmed to be unbreakable and it had been in stasis for quite a long time, but it was still healthy for consumption, or as healthy as a Polyjuice Potion could ever be.

Removing his hand out of the potion box with the flask held in his hand, Harry reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a small vial that had a few strands of ginger-colored hair. Taking a few hairs out with the help of a tweezers, Harry once again put the stopper back in its place and pocketed the vial. Placing the tweezers back into the potion box, Harry closed the lid and fastened the clasp.

Absently thinking of reminding himself that the box needed some Security Spells placed on it, Harry held the Polyjuice flask in one hand and dropped the hairs into it with another. As soon as the hairs made contact with the potion, it hissed loudly like a boiling kettle and frothed madly. A few seconds later, the potion had turned into a grey colored thick gooey liquid. Holding the small flask up to his nose, he took a small whiff and was not surprised to note that the potion smelled a bit like tobacco. Harry was not willing to admit it, but he was scared as to how it would actually taste like when he drank it.

'Now I'm really regretting killing that thief. If I knew that I'd have to drink this, I'd have left him alive till later tonight,' thought Harry to himself, holding the flask away from him as if it had the most poisonous substance inside it. And to Harry, it really really did.

Repeatedly telling himself that this would help him in his quest of freedom, Harry finally gathered enough courage to bring the flask near to him. Taking a deep breath, Harry brought the flask to his lips. Pinching his nose close, Harry closed his eyes and tilted the flask. As the potion poured down his throat, its taste similar to Dragon dung, Harry only had one thought in his mind before the burning sensation of the change started :

'_Sometimes I hate it when I'm right!'_

* * *

After the sensations related to the Polyjuice change passed, Harry once again had the full control of his body. His entire body was tingling due to the change and his clothes felt really tight. Cursing himself for not remembering that Dung was a squat man, Harry tried to get out of his clothes. Struggling for full two minutes, Harry finally managed to get rid of his clothes. Calling Kreacher to him once again, Harry asked him to bring him some clothes that fit his current body.

Kreacher bowed and immediately did as he was told. Coming back with a few frayed and tattered articles of clothing fit for Mundungus's body, Kreacher handed them to his Master. As he was putting them on, Kreacher suddenly asked, "Master, why you be looking like Thief Fletcher?"

"Well," said Harry, "Fletcher was a member of the Order, and today he was on guard duty when I brought him here. If they do not see him at the end of his shift, then they will assume that he died or was killed when he was on guard duty, and due to that, some amount of suspicion would fall on me, however small." Harry smirked before continuing, "That's why I'm Polyjuicing to be in his place at the end of the shift, which is in half an hour, so that an Order member will remember seeing Fletcher leaving the Guard post safely. When they will learn about this, they will assume that he died or was killed after he left the Guard post, and so no suspicions will fall on me."

Kreacher listened to his Master's brilliant plan and was awed by his thoughtfulness. After a few moments, he posed another question.

"Master, when will you be returning?" he asked.

"I'll try to return as soon as I can," said Harry sincerely. "In the mean time, if I need any assistance – say more books or some food – I'll summon you."

"Kreacher will be happy to serve," said the old Elf, bowing once again.

"I've got to leave now. I'll take the Knight Bus to get there," muttered Harry to himself. "Kreacher, can you quickly gather my possessions?"

Kreacher nodded and snapped his fingers. As Harry looked on, the clothes which he had removed on changing into Fletcher were quickly folded, the duffle bag – which had been on the table – was lying at his feet, and the potion box was next to it, with his glasses that he had removed placed on top of it. The two wands were lying next to the glasses. The things that Harry had taken from Fletcher at Privet Drive was lying on top of the neatly folded Invisibility Cloak

Harry quickly rushed forward and picked up his glasses. Putting them in his shirt pocket, Harry quickly pulled the mouth of the duffle bag open and stuffed his clothes into it, along with the potion box. The items from Fletcher were also tossed inside, with the Invisibility Cloak finally resting on top of all the things inside the bag, so that it could be easily and quickly accessed. Placing the wands in his pockets, Harry staggered to his feet, the extra body mass making it difficult to maintain balance.

Once he was standing steadily on his feet, Harry quickly bid Kreacher adieu, picked up the deceptively light duffle bag and hurried out of the Drawing Room, down the staircase, past the plaque of Elf heads, and into the entrance hallway of Grimmauld Place. Harry quickly rushed to the portrait of Walburga Black and opened the curtains.

Mrs. Black was awake and looking at him with a critical eye. After a while, she asked, "What is your plan, Harry?"

"I think Kreacher will be able to explain it to you later, lady. Right now I'm in a hurry. I came here to say farewell," said Harry hurriedly.

Mrs. Black just nodded imperiously and said, "Farewell, young Heir."

Harry nodded back and with a swift bow, he rushed out of the house through the front door. As the door closed, Harry could hear the sounds of various locks clicking and sliding shut, barring anyone from entering the house without permission. This had never happened before, but Harry assumed that this was the result of the Wards being activated to full power.

Now on the empty streets outside of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Harry looked around to see if anyone was looking outside. While he would become immune to Ministry Law when he became a Hunter, currently he was still a teenager and subject to the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery as well as bound by the ICW's Statute of Secrecy. After confirming that there were no spectators, Harry drew Fletcher's crooked wand from his pocket and stuck out his wand hand, just like he had accidentally done in the beginning of his third year.

There was a deafening **BANG** and Harry quickly stumbled backwards, not wanting to be squashed under the vehicle that had just appeared. A triple-decker, violently purple bus with gold lettering over the windscreen that spelled _The Knight Bus_, had suddenly appeared out of thin air.

As Harry watched, a familiar conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak a familiar speech.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard," said Stan Shunpike in his loud voice, "Just stick out your. . . "

The pimpled man stopped abruptly when a wand was shoved under his nose.

"Shut your trap and get moving, or I'll shove this wand where the sun doesn't shine," said Harry in Fletcher's gruff voice. He was running out of time, and here this idiot was wasting his time reciting his useless speech.

"A. . . A'right, Sir," squeaked Stan in fear, "Co. . . Come on in."

Harry quickly got inside and saw that the arrangement was different now. When he had traveled by this bus the last time, it had been full of brass bedsteads. Now, it was crammed with an assortment of mismatched chairs grouped haphazardly around the windows. Quickly occupying the empty seat near the entrance to the bus, Harry sat down before the bus moved again and tossed him around, the duffle bag enchanted with a Featherweight Charm in his lap.

Stan was standing nearby, glancing fearfully at the short-tempered squat man who had just now threatened him. He wanted to inform the man that he was occupying the conductor's chair, but he decided not to in case the man fulfilled his earlier threat. So instead he asked in a stuttering voice, "W. . . Where'd ya like ta go, Sir?"

"Magnolia Crescent, Surrey," the man muttered gruffly. "How much will it cost?"

"Nine Sickles," said Stan, "but for eleven Sick. . . "

"Shut up and take this," the man growled, holding out nine Sickles in his hand. Stan immediately quieted down and took the money with quivering hands. As he put it in his money pouch, he nearly dropped as the man suddenly turned to look at him.

Harry smirked to himself as he saw Stan shaking like a leaf in the wind. _'Mission accomplished!'_

The idiot had been shouting Harry's name very loudly last year when he and his friends had taken a ride back to Hogwarts, and that could have been the cause of an attack on Harry and his friends if a Death Eater had by chance heard that they were traveling without proper protection. (And only Lupin and Tonks as guards was _not_ proper protection, as much as he hated to admit it.) This guy had nearly endangered their lives by not keeping his loud mouth shut, and Harry was extracting payback for that. Now at least he would think twice before opening that trap of his.

"Take 'er away, Ern. Surrey first," said Stan, gripping a nearby support pole very hard.

There was another loud **BANG** and the bus started moving again. Harry held the hand rests of his chair tightly so that he would not be flung around in the bus like a rag doll.

As he looked out of the window, Harry could see that the bus was moving at ridiculously high speeds and it did not collide with anything, because everything – lamp posts, letter-boxes, bins – jumped out of its way as it approached and back into position once it had passed.

After a few minutes of speeding in the wrong direction, the bus once again came to a stop with a **BANG** on the somewhat familiar ruined park of Magnolia Crescent. Harry quickly hefted his duffle bag before Shunpike could say anything and got out of the purple bus. Striding away from the bus – which had disappeared with another **BANG** – Harry quickly walked towards Privet Drive to reach his relatives' home on time before the Order member arrived. Opening the duffle bag in mid-stride, Harry quickly pulled out the borrowed Invisibility Cloak and gripped it tightly in one hand. Closing the mouth of the duffle bag, he slung it over his shoulder and gripped the strap with the other hand. Unfolding the Invisibility Cloak, Harry quickly threw it over his shoulders.

Anyone watching the scene would have seen a short squat man suddenly become invisible as he was walking briskly.

* * *

Dedalus Diggle was a member of the Order of the Phoenix – a secret vigilante organization created by Albus Dumbledore to fight against Darkness. He had fought in the First Wizarding War against Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He had been a member of the Advance Guard – a special Team selected to escort Harry Potter from his home to the Order Headquarters – last year.

At the moment he was heading towards the house he had visited last year. His job was the protection of Harry Potter. Dedalus had always liked the lad since he had defeated You Know Who in 1981. He had seen the lad several times when he had been out shopping and he had bowed in greeting. When they had finally met face to face in the Leaky Cauldron, Dedalus had been surprised that the lad had remembered him from the shop. That had increased his admiration of the lad by several times.

When they had met again last year, the little lad had now grown into a strong young man, and Dedalus could see from the way he walked that the lad had been through a lot in his short life. Yet the lad had not given up and forged ahead in face of the challenges and come out as the victor. That had finally turned the admiration into frank respect.

As Dedalus walked towards Number Four Privet Drive – because Apparating there was not possible due to the Wards around the house – he saw that the man who he had to relieve was currently sitting under the window sill and appeared to be dozing. The man was a waste of space, every Order member agreed on that, except the leader of the Order, Albus Dumbledore. Dedalus did not know why Dumbledore was so insistent that Dung remain in the Order. Even after last year's Dementor Disaster, Albus had ordered Fletcher to once again be a guard here.

'At least the drunkard stayed here this time,' thought Dedalus to himself.

As he entered the lawn of Privet Drive with his own Invisibility Cloak, Dedalus noticed that Fletcher did not have his Invisibility Cloak. But knowing that he would not get a proper answer from the drunkard, he decided to forego the question. Approaching the window sill where the thief was currently sitting, Dedalus could smell the faint traces of tobacco hanging in the air. Dedalus sneered. 'So that's why he's still here. He brought his goods with him this time.'

Walking up to the man who was lazily dozing around, Dedalus prodded the thief with his foot. The man twitched for a while before he looked around for the source of disturbance.

"Oi! Whaddya want?" the man asked, his voice slurred.

"Did Harry leave the house?" asked Dedalus, his voice concerned.

"Nah! The brat's been inside tha 'hole day!" Fletcher exclaimed. "Didn't even peep out tha win'ow!"

"Well, that's good," said Dedalus. "It's time for you to leave, Fletcher. Now get going."

"Whaddya say?" the drunkard asked.

"I said get going!" said Dedalus, his voice rising a bit.

"Ah, so mah turn to watch the brat is over?" Fletcher slurred.

"Yes, now get lost."

"Otay!" the bumbling man said as he stumbled across the lawn and onto the street. He nearly fell over as he crossed the pavement, holding onto the post-box of a resident. Righting himself, the drunkard stumbled his way down the street, away from Dedalus Diggle's vision, before disappearing around the corner.

* * *

Ten minutes later, soft footsteps could be heard approaching the back door of Number Four Privet Drive. Slowly the sound became a bit louder and a slight huffing could be heard, but the source of the noises was not visible.

Indeed, Harry Potter was currently hiding under the Invisibility Cloak that had at one time belonged to a thief known as Mundungus Fletcher. The man had kindly given it to him before his unfortunate death.

And right now Harry Potter was making full use of his new gift as he walked up the backyard and to the back door to the house that was connected to the kitchen. Quiet mutterings could be heard from the teenager as he was slowly making his way to the door.

"Damn, Potter, you should get an Oscar for that acting," muttered Harry to himself as he grinned slightly, "Then again, fooling an Order member is very easy, especially when they are old geezers like Diggle-Giggle."

"Didn't even ask for the Invisibility Cloak," said Harry, shaking his head sadly before smirking, "Well, his loss, my gain, isn't it?"

"Well, that stumbling was quite real," muttered Harry, "Fletcher's really heavy, and the thief's got nearly no muscles in his body. How he walks around is a surprise. I nearly collapsed from the weight."

Walking up the few steps that led to the door, Harry removed the Invisibility Cloak and knocked the door loudly as he yelled, "Aunt Petunia, _I'm home_!"

'_I always wanted to do that!'_ Harry grinned as he heard his aunt shrieking from inside the house.

* * *

**» Next Chapter :** Harry has returned to Privet Drive. But what about Dung? Where is he? How did he die? What will Dumbledore do? Find out in the next chapter.

**» ****AN :** I have not specifically used the name in the story, only the description, but the ZPM is the only tech from Stargate universe that I'm using right now. Later in the story, I may add a few other techs if necessary. Any suggestions?

**»** Dumbledore's character in this story has been decided. He'll be a good-Dumbledore with a 'for the Greater Good' problem. I'll be writing a few stupid moments of Dumby. Who wants to invite Grindelwald to distract him?

**»** I don't like stupid people like Stan, so to anyone who likes him, I'm sorry for his slight bashing.

**»** I'll be using J.K.R's wand theory : someone defeats the owner, the allegiance of the wand changes.

**»** Poll's still open. Results can be seen on profile page. There is still time. Vote for your favorite girl.

Thank you, all my readers and reviewers, for reading the story, and this chapter! Please review and tell me your opinions!

May your sword stay sharp!


	8. Death & Dumbledore

**Harry Potter – Hunter**

**By : Andor Swiftblade**

**Disclaimer** : Harry Potter belongs to the beautiful blonde lady famously known as J K Rowling. No monetary gain is being made from this story. Any non-Canon characters belong to me. Certain creative terms which have been used probably belong to some of my brilliant fellow fan fiction authors. (I don't really know to whom, so please forgive me.)

**Summary** : After the DoM Mayhem, Harry decides that he is tired of the Dursleys and figures that he wants to take a unique summer job. Follow him as in his bid for freedom, he has the adventure of a lifetime. Post OotP. Probably AU. Might include crossovers.

* * *

_**Comedy is tragedy that happens to other people.**_

* * *

_**Nothing in the world is free – everything has its price.**_

* * *

_**People always encourage creativity. The urge for destruction is also a creative urge.**_

* * *

_**People ask for criticism, but they only want praise.**_

* * *

_**Children throw stones at frogs for fun, but the frogs don't die for 'fun', but in sober earnest.**_

* * *

_**Be ready to fight for what you believe until you drop dead. That's what keeps you alive.**_

* * *

_**Even a mouse can kill a cat if the cat doubts itself.**_

* * *

*** * * * * Chapter 8 * * * * ***

***|* Death & Dumbledore *|*  
**

In the Wizarding World, there were many types of people. Some were rich, others were poor. Some lived in ramshackle cottages while others lived in huge, handsome and elegant manor houses. Some people lacked common sense while some were intelligent. Some worked in offices while others owned businesses. Some were hard workers while some were thieves. Some were magically weak, some were powerful and there were very few who were extremely powerful.

In the Wizarding World, power was in three forms : political, monetary, and magical. Some had none of these, some had one of there, some had a combination of two of these, but there were very few who had all of these.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was one such person. Considered by many as a genius, the greatest wizard of the generation, and by some as the second coming of Merlin, everyone thought about Albus Dumbledore; either with the intention to praise him or to curse him. The man was magically powerful, he had political clout nationally as well as internationally, and though he was known to be rich – he had worked with an Alchemist, after all – no one knew the exact amount of money in his Vault.

Currently, Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office located inside the Headmaster's Tower of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was early morning, nearly 8 : 20 p.m.. Usually during school days, he would be occupying his throne-like chair in the Great Hall, listening to the morning hustle-bustle of the students who had just woken up and were very hungry. But fortunately for him, the school was not in session since it was the summer holidays.

For that reason only, Albus had woken up rather late. First he had brushed his teeth with his favorite lemon-and-mint flavored toothpaste. Then he had taken a bath in his huge bathtub filled with rose-scented water, after which he had to decide which robes to wear for the day – there was a mental clash between an orange robe covered with little brooms and a pink robe with yellow flowers. Finally he had decided to wear a purple robe with varieties of sweets on them, which were constantly moving all over the robes. Then he had brushed his silvery beard while meditating – during which he had been trying to decide whether to braid it or not. Deciding to leave it as it always was, he put on a matching purple hat covered with shooting stars and also put on his half-moon glasses to cover his twinkling blue eyes. Then he had moved to sit in his comfortable office chair.

Sitting in the enchanted office chair, Albus noticed the sunlight coming in through the open windows, and he noted that he was running rather late than his usual schedule. Deciding to head to the Great Hall for breakfast, he quickly closed his office doors - which locked themselves automatically once he tapped them with his wand – and quickly stepped on the revolving staircase to his office.

As he calmly walked to the Great Hall, Dumbledore reflected on what had happened near the end of the previous school year. They had lost Sirius in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, and Nymphadora had been injured and had to be admitted to St. Mungo's Hospital due to the seriousness of her injuries. And because of Sirius's death, the Order Headquarters of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had been compromised. It was no longer a suitable base of operation, so they were required to find a new place for their meetings.

Then there was the Ministry. For an entire year, they had been denying the return of Lord Voldemort and they had launched a smear campaign against himself and Harry to discredit both of them. They had tried to take control over Hogwarts and had been successful for some time. But when the Dark Lord had finally made an appearance in the Ministry Atrium, with the Minister and several Aurors as witness, the Ministry had been forced to admit that the Dark Lord had returned.

So after that revelation, Dumbledore had been reinstated as the Hogwarts Headmaster and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, though he had not been reinstated to his position as the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards.

Now there where talks in the Ministry about Fudge being ousted on the grounds of his incompetence, though the Minister was still holding his ground. Dumbledore had decided quite earlier on that he would take a "no comments" non-interference policy in this debate. Because he knew that even a word from his mouth would change the flow of tide for Fudge.

Voldemort and his loyal Death Eaters were lying low at the moment. It was obvious to the old sorcerer that Voldemort had been badly injured during his attempt at the possession of Harry Potter.

Harry Potter, now that was another interesting topic for him. That boy was really amazing. Even in the face of certain death, the boy had not quailed and his courage had not failed him. Even though his friends had been injured, he had continued to fight and not once had he faltered. And even though he had looked dead tired, the boy still had the power to throw Tom out of his mind during the attempted possession. And he still had energy left after foiling the attempted possession to destroy half his office and yell at him. Simply put, the child was . . . he couldn't find the proper word for it.

The boy had had a sad aura around him when he had left the school for the train platform, but Dumbledore had seen the glint of determination shining brightly in his emerald eyes. That had comforted him to some extent. Most people lost the will continue with their lives when they lost someone dear to them, but Harry was not like that. He had been knocked down a lot of times, but he still had the courage and fighting spirit left in him to stand back up and push forward. He knew that if push came to shove, Harry Potter would not go down without a fight.

Dumbledore had always believed that the power mentioned in the prophecy was love. He believed that it was Harry's ability to love that set him apart from creatures like Voldemort. Love had protected him when he was a child, love had saved him during the possession, and Albus believed that love would also save him when he fought Voldemort for the final time. Because love was one of the greatest mystery of life, and it was the most powerful emotion that any human being could feel. It was love that would save the Wizarding World, he was sure of that.

Albus Dumbledore did not realize how apt he was. Love would indeed save the world, but it would be because the one man who could save the world would take up the weapons so that he could protect his loved ones from death, even at the cost of his own life. Just like his mother had done for him.

* * *

Everything had been going smoothly and quietly for a while now. Even though the Ministry had declared the return of Lord Voldemort, there had been no attacks. The Ministry claimed through the Daily Prophet that the peaceful atmosphere was maintained because of its Auror forces which were conducting regular patrols all over Britain, whether on foot or on brooms. The war was in a state of unresolved conflict. Now one knew how long the stalemate was going to last, but everyone knew that the war had indeed begun. There were signs everywhere that Darkness was on the rise once again.

As Dumbledore turned around the corner of the last corridor he had been traversing to reach the doors of the Great Hall, he thought of the one important piece of information that Mundungus Fletcher had managed to procure for him. He had been informed that the activity in Knockturn Alley had increased. There were hags and other unpleasant people roaming around the alley even during day time without fear of Ministry prosecution. The shopkeepers of Knockturn Alley had also started stocking up on many illegal and non-tradable substances, less used, precious, costly and potentially dangerous potion ingredients, as well as quite a large number of artifacts that were considered to be enchanted with Dark Magic. There was quite a stir in the dark alley now a day. But nothing seemed to imply Death Eater involvement in them, so Albus considered them to be an acceptable reaction, as there would have to be a commotion in Knockturn Alley due to the sudden announcement of the Dark Lord's return.

When Dumbledore reached the Great Hall, he noticed that the daily newspaper had not yet been delivered. Not that he read it; he had his subscription cancelled last year. Taking his regular seat at the middle of the Head Table, Albus filled his plate with as much as he could of the delicious breakfast made by the Hogwarts House Elves. There were few teachers present for breakfast, which he noted. He knew that some had left for their vacation, while there were others who decided to eat in their quarters, since breakfast was no longer mandatory for Staff members. (During school days, it was compulsary for every teacher to attend the breakfast, lunch and dinner; unless they had a valid reason not to.)

Currently seated at the Head Table along with him were Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall and Hagrid. Albus knew that Severus and Poppy were in their respective quarters, and Sybil was probably holed up in her residence in the North Tower reading tea leaves and gazing into Crystal Orbs. Other than those sitting at the table, they were the only Staff members still at Hogwarts. (Binns did not count, as he was dead and was taken into account as a ghost.)

"Good morning, Minerva. How are you today?" asked Albus jovially as he began eating his breakfast.

McGonagall swallowed the food in her mouth slowly before answering slowly, "I'm quite well, Albus. The castle seems different, a bit more peaceful rather than its usual hectic self, though one can sense the absence of the students."

Albus nodded happily, knowing that it was true. The children had always been the life of this castle.

"Do you want to hear a new joke I recently heard, Minerva? It's about the mermaid and a sailor. . . "

"Not now, Albus. I have to return to my office for grading some extra credit papers," said McGonagall briskly.

Dumbledore just sighed and nodded. 'No one wants to hear my jokes anymore,' he thought petulantly.

As breakfast continued, there was suddenly the sound of wings fluttering and Dumbledore looked up from his plate to see the post owls entering through the upper windows of the castle. There were three of them; all of them brown medium-size barn owls. The three owls held the rolled up Daily Prophet in their talons and were heading for Filius, Minerva and Hagrid. Not interested in finding out what the latest controversies and rumors discussed by the populous were, Albus once again turned his attention back to his food.

Hearing a whizzing sound coming from somewhere, Albus looked up to identify the source of the noise. As soon as he looked up, what appeared to be a small, grey, feathery ball collided with the side of his head.

"OUCH!" exclaimed the old Headmaster, clutching the side of his head in pain.

The other Professors who were about to untie the thread binding their rolled newspapers looked up at the sudden exclamation. They looked up to see the Headmaster trying to catch a small owl that was zooming around his head twittering madly, dodging the old man's swiping hands, becoming even more excited at every unsuccessful attempts by the Headmaster's to catch it.

Shaking their heads at the Headmaster's attempts to make a fool out of himself, the Professors once again turned to their previous job of untying the newspaper.

Finally Dumbledore managed to catch the small midget-owl and untied the parchment from its legs. The parchment was faded yellow and a bit crumpled, but otherwise he could recognize the familiar writing of Molly Weasley, though it appeared that the letter was penned in a hurry.

Quickly opening the letter, Dumbledore read the very short letter, which was very untypical of Molly. It read :

**READ THE DAILY PROPHET, ALBUS!**

**IMMEDIATELY!  
**

Frowning that Molly was urging – or rather commanding – him to read his hated periodical, Dumbledore decided to acquiescent her request.

Just as he turned to McGonagall to borrow her copy of the Daily Prophet, Dumbledore heard Hagrid gasp loudly as he looked at the newspaper clutched in his hands in shock and horror. McGonagall too appeared to be shocked by something as she was covering her mouth with her hands as her normal strict composure fled. Filius was scrambling on the floor, from where he had fallen off his piled-up cushions, in surprise.

Wanting to know what news had caused such an adverse reaction from the most composed individual at Hogwarts (apart from himself and Severus) and from the normally unflappable Dueling Champion, Dumbledore was about to inquire the cause of their dismay when he found the Daily Prophet shoved in his face.

As he gripped the newsprint and unfolded it to read it properly, Dumbledore read the headline of the article and his face tightened as the twinkling in his eyes dimmed slightly. Printed in large words on the front page was the worst news he could receive right now.

_**Dead Body Found Near Borgin and Burkes**_

_Today, early in the morning, a body was found near a shop known as Borgin and Burkes in the premises of Knockturn Alley by the owner the shop, Mr. Oliver Borgin. The shop offers confidential valuation service for unusual and ancient Wizarding artifacts, such as may have been inherited by the best Wizarding families._

_The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has issued an official statement about the identity of the dead person, and also about the cause of death. The man's identity has been confirmed to be Mundungus Fabian Fletcher, 42. Auror Investigators who investigated the crime scene briefly revealed that the man did not have any traces of magic being used on him._

_But in an official report filed in the publicly-accessible Room of Records at the Ministry of Magic, it has been found that the man's body was fully covered with large yellow boils from both inside and outside. It has been stated that a sufficient quantity of undiluted Bubotuber pus had been found inside the body's stomach. It is not known whether the man was intentionally fed the pus or whether he accidentally ingested it; though the Investigators are inclined to believe the latter reason because of the large number of alcohol bottles (Firewhisky, specifically) that have been recovered from the man's cloak._

_It might be possible that the man was drunk and accidentally consumed the very dangerous undiluted Bubotuber pus directly. This theory may be true, since the man is a known heavy smoker and drinker, and also a thief who has been arrested by Aurors for various petty thefts._

_Mr. Fletcher has no known family or friends, but even so, the Daily Prophet would like to give our condolences to people who knew him well._

_Proper ways of handling undiluted Bubotuber pus (Cont. page 2, column 1)_

_Uses of diluted Bubotuber pus in Beautifying Potions (See page 8, column 4)_

_Sacharissa Tugwood, who is she? (See page 8, column 1)_

_Dangers of Drinking (See page 11, column 9)  
_

Albus was saddened at the news, though it did not fully show itself on his emotionless outer façade. He had his own suspicions and speculations as to what might have been the true cause of Mundungus Fletcher's death. The main – and most plausible – one was that the poor man must have been snooping around Knockturn Alley and poking his nose where he should not have. He might have intervened on some important dealing and someone must have caught him. And so to prevent him from spilling their secrets, they must have fed him the pus.

Dumbledore knew that there were many apothecaries in Knockturn Alley where undiluted Bubotuber Pus was sold. And one of those shop owners might have been involved in Dung's murder. And the scenario that was published in the Daily Prophet was also a distinct probability, one that could not be dismissed, as Dung had been known to steal a lot of things and might have mistaken the pus for Firewhisky. (Firewhisky was orange and Bubotuber pus was yellowish-green – to a drunken man, there would not be much difference as he would be in stupor due to his drinking.)

But the major setback was that his one and only informant in the seedier circles of the Wizarding World had died. Though Dumbledore felt sad for the loss of Dung's life, he knew that certain sacrifices had to be made for the Greater Good. And though he had not intended to sacrifice Dung at the moment, Albus knew that the thief would have certainly met his end soon one of these days because of his unlawful profession.

Quietly mourning for the loss of his Order member and informant, as well as the loss of life of a human being, Dumbledore folded the newspaper and kept it on the table. Looking at the other Order members present at the moment, Dumbledore noticed that McGonagall had wiped off her tears and Hagrid was currently making a good use of the table cloth of the Head Table as a handkerchief. Filius's face was solemn but his eyes were showing his anger. Dumbledore did not have to think for long before he gave new orders to be carried out.

"Call all the Order members. We are having an emergency meeting in my office. Tell them to arrive within an hour," said Dumbledore, his tone commanding, before standing up from his seat and leaving the Great Hall, moving towards his office with surprising speed for someone so old.

* * *

The sun had risen early as it was wont to during the summer season. This early in the morning, there was no indication of the sweltering heat that would be felt later in the day; now it was cool and there was even a pleasant morning breeze, making the atmosphere quite pleasant.

In Privet Drive, the atmosphere was the same. There were several people who were jogging on the pavements and were enjoying the surprisingly cool breeze as they continued their morning activities. Some residents had risen early and were currently watering their lawn. Others were cleaning their cars and getting ready for work.

In the lawn of Number Four Privet Drive, Elphias Doge was currently doing his work, which was guarding the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. He had been here since three hours after midnight, when he had relieved his good friend Dedalus Diggle, and he would be here till noon, which was when he would be replaced by the thief Mundungus Fletcher.

There had been no disturbances during his shift, and today's morning had been especially good, what with the weather being so pleasant. There was a breeze blowing and it was soothing to his old body, since he had been sitting under the window sill keeping watch from the time he had arrived and for the entire time, he had not vacated his post. The hiding spot was slightly uncomfortable because of the ornamental bushes, but now that he could feel the cool breeze, he felt a bit more comfortable. Everything was so peaceful and silent.

The peace and silence was disturbed when his Order Pendant began vibrating. Quickly removing the pendant from within the folds of his cloak, Elphias held the vibrating Phoenix pendant in his hands. After a few moments, the vibrating stopped and Elphias could hear the voice of Minerva McGonagall issuing from the charmed pendant.

"All members of the Order are recalled immediately. There is an emergency. Report in an hour at Hogwarts. The emergency meeting is in the Headmaster's Office. Password for admittance : Fizzing Whizzbees. Make haste."

The order was repeated twice more, but Elphias had already stuffed the pendant in one of his many cloak pockets and he was quickly moving out of Privet Drive, hidden under his Invisibility Cloak. Just outside the approximate range of the Wards around Privet Drive, Elphias turned on the spot and vanished in a swirl of robes; not that he was visible to anyone before he had vanished.

* * *

**»** **Next Chapter :** Harry gathers his ammunitions and prepares himself for his Hunter Qualification Tests. But where to find the equipment? A trip to Diagon & Knockturn Alley? Maybe a quick stop at Grimmauld Place?

**»** The contents of the flask have been finally revealed. So, how did you like my way of killing Dung? I know that this chapter is short, but I couldn't just cram everything I wanted in it. It's somewhat like an interlude.

**»** **AN :** _Sacharissa Tugwood_ is a known Potter verse character. She is mentioned in Chocolate Frog Cards in the games.

**»** Dumbledore may come off as a fool, but that's how he is like in the books. He becomes serious if the situation calls for it; otherwise he is happy and gay. (Pardon the pun.)

**»** I'm going to introduce the Ancient Healing Device from Stargate in a few chapters. It's also going to be somewhat related to DH. Any guesses about how I'm going to do it?

**»** The poll is still going on, and the last time I checked, Daphne Greengrass is in the lead, followed by the beautiful Fleur Delacour. The third place competition has been tough with Narcissa, Hermione and Tonks fighting for the position. But there's still time, so you can still vote for your favorite girl.

**»** Thank you, all my readers and reviewers! I hope you like this chapter, and that you are anticipating the next one. (It may take some time because I'm still undecided if I should include some more action in it or not.)

**»** This is my special thanks to an anonymous reviewer A Stern Critic. I thank you for your advice. But the Knife sentence was Harry's contemplation of the basic uses of a weapon, not my description. The story will be picking up pace in the next few chapters, but the descriptions are somewhat necessary for the future plot. I know that all my readers have read HP books, but this information is not just a complete rehash of the canon. It is important for the explanation of the story.

May your sword stay sharp!


	9. Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment

**Harry Potter – Hunter**

**By : Andor Swiftblade**

**Disclaimer** : Harry Potter belongs to the beautiful blonde lady famously known as J K Rowling. No monetary gain is being made from this story. Any non-Canon characters belong to me. Certain creative terms which have been used probably belong to some of my brilliant fellow fan fiction authors. (I don't really know to whom, so please forgive me.)

**Summary** : After the DoM Mayhem, Harry decides that he is tired of the Dursleys and figures that he wants to take a unique summer job. Follow him as in his bid for freedom, he has the adventure of a lifetime. Post OotP. Probably AU. Might include crossovers.

* * *

_This chapter is my tribute to Robert Knox, who played the role of Marcus Belby in HBP, and who passed away on May 24, 2008. He was stabbed when he was defending his younger brother. May his soul rest in peace._

* * *

_**Jedem das Seine. – To each his own.**_

* * *

_**Where there is no vision, people perish.**_

* * *

_**Everybody is ignorant, only on different subjects.**_

* * *

_**Idleness is only the refuge of weak minds.**_

* * *

_**Some people laugh at everything, for fear of having to weep at it.**_

* * *

_**Walk with hope in your heart and you'll never walk alone.**_

* * *

_**By nature men are alike. Through practice they have become far apart.**_

* * *

*** * * * * Chapter 9 * * * * ***

***|* Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment *|***

The sunlight streamed into the smallest bedroom of Number Four Privet Drive through the open window, falling on the nearly broken bed with tattered mattresses. The bed was currently empty, but lying on it were things that were called clothes but looked like rags.

The door of the bedroom opened with a creak and a teenager crept inside. The kid was of average height for someone of his age – somewhere near 5" 8' – and he was wearing clothes that were several sizes too large for him. His emerald green eyes were hidden behind a pair of round-framed black spectacles, but they were not held together by cello tape as they had been when he had been an eleven-year-old.

Harry had completed his daily morning exercise (Oliver Wood's Quidditch fitness regime from his third year), finished his morning rituals and had a quick shower before the baby killer whale woke up and used up all the water.

Quickly dressing himself in his second-hand clothes, Harry entered the bedroom and also put on the clothes he had picked up from Number Twelve Grimmauld Place yesterday. He looked at the corner of the room near the window where his snowy white owl Hedwig was sleeping with her head under her wing.

Today he had planned a for trip to Diagon Alley as well as Knockturn Alley, but Harry knew that he would have to be careful in getting past and avoiding the Order members stationed nearby. He opened his duffle bag and got out the money bags that he had taken from the Black Storage Room; he also emptied what money he had _'borrowed'_ from Fletcher into the money bags, taking care to separate the Galleons, Sickles and Knuts and putting them away in their respective bags so that they would not get mixed. His own money bag was lying at the bottom of his expanded school bag, but he had already decided that he was not going to use the money from his Gringotts Vault unless it was absolutely necessary. He had the Black Family money for spending, after all. No sense in wasting his own money when he had the fortune of an old Pureblood family.

Harry snorted. 'How ironic,' he thought to himself with a smirk, 'I'm going to use the money of a Dark Pureblood Family to destroy the Dark Pureblood Families.'

Then he thought of what he was going to buy in the two alleys. He had no idea what to purchase, and he was not Hermione to sit down and write a shopping list. Harry decided that he would browse through the stores and see if he found anything useful. Who knew what half the shops in the alleys had. One could not guess the contents of a shop by reading the name plaque and the shop's appearance. That would be just stupid.

As he contemplated on what would be considered useful to a Hunter, Harry suddenly felt a vibration from one of his cloak pockets. Quickly searching for the source of the sudden disturbance, Harry's hand grazed the Order Pendant that he had taken from Fletcher yesterday. It was the source of the vibration. Holding it in his hands, Harry heard the voice of Professor Minerva McGonagall coming from the charmed Order Pendant.

"All members of the Order are recalled immediately. There is an emergency. Report in an hour at Hogwarts. The emergency meeting is in the Headmaster's Office. Password for admittance : Fizzing Whizzbees. Make haste."

The order was repeated twice more, but Harry was not paying any attention to it. He was sure that by now the Order must have received the news of Mundungus Fletcher's death, and his body must have been found. Harry knew for sure that he would not be under any suspicion from the Order or the Ministry. Stuffing the pendant in his pockets, Harry smiled grimly; his first personal mission had been a success.

Then he frowned. What if Fletcher's Order pendant had been in the hands of the Ministry? They would have known that Dumbledore was calling the meeting of his vigilante secret organization at Hogwarts, and that would have resulted in the Ministry arriving at Hogwarts and arresting all the Order members. Fudge would have loved if he could catch Dumbledore doing illegal activities, and that too with proof. Then he would be able to discredit Dumbledore, and no one would be able to deny it as he had the proof.

Looking out of the bedroom window, Harry could see the slight shimmering of an Invisibility Cloak. Seeing that, he knew at once that whichever Order member had been guarding him had left for the meeting.

The frown deepened as Harry continued his mental diatribe. What if Tommy Boy and his Moronic Munchers attacked right now? He had no protection (Well, he had Dung's wand, but that was not the problem) as the Order member had disappeared and he could not expect any back up from the Order.

And what if Tommy Boy – or one of his minions – had found the pendant? Tommy would have known where the Order was gathering and he could attack Hogwarts. Or he could order Lady Lucy Malfoy to inform Fudge that Dumbledore was gathering his secret army at Hogwarts, and then the imbecile incompetent Minister would send all his Aurors to arrest the old coot and his Bird Watching Club.

Harry shook his head clear of such thoughts, though he silently marveled at the stupidity of the Order members, as well as the old coot, the so called greatest wizard of the generation.

Now that he was sure that his Order Watcher had left his post, Harry decided that now would be the best time to head for his trip. He would have a double advantage. First, no one– mainly the Order – would know that he had left the house. Second, in the event of Voldemort's attack, he would be safe as he would not be in the house.

Swiftly gathering all his important things, Harry quickly headed out of the bedroom. The school bag – which contained the duffle bag, the two invisibility Cloaks, and the money pouches – was on his shoulders, his one hand holding the straps while his other hand held Fletcher's crooked wand. His own wand was safely inside one of the pockets of his cloak.

As he reached the staircase of the house, Harry paused. If he walked down in his current attire, his relative would be pissed, not to add that he could not roam in the Muggle World while wearing a cloak, not that he had much to see or but in the Muggle World. But to escape from Privet Drive, he would have to make sure that he would not be seen.

Reaching the obvious conclusion, Harry quickly removed Fletcher's Invisibility Cloak from the bag and covered himself with it. Disappearing from view, Harry quietly crept down the staircase, taking care to not step on the creaky stair. Reaching the ground floor, Harry quickly moved towards the front door and was relieved to find that it was not locked.

Getting out of the house was not much difficult and soon Harry was walking down the path to Magnolia Crescent playground where he had arrived last night on the Knight Bus. Stuffing the Invisibility Cloak into the bag, Harry held out his wand hand. He heard the trademark **BANG** as the Knight Bus arrived. The conductor was not Stan Shunpike this time, but someone else that he did not recognize.

Paying the eleven Sickles necessary for the trip to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry quickly found himself a seat and held on to it tightly. As the bus disappeared from Magnolia Crescent with another **BANG** and a jerk, Harry smiled to himself.

* * *

The Leaky Cauldron was a tiny, grubby-looking pub when one observed it from the outside. Most of the people who were hurrying by did not even glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they could not see the Leaky Cauldron at all. And they indeed could not. The pub was hidden from all the normal eyes by powerful spells so that no random person could not wander inside and find the secret of the Wizarding World's existence. Only those who knew of the pub's existence could see it.

The door of the Leaky Cauldron made no noise as Harry slowly pushed it open. Looking inside, Harry saw that it was still very dark and shabby on the inside, even in the day. Pulling his hood up while shaking his head, Harry entered the pub and noticed that it was not as crowded as it had been during his previous visits. There were very few patrons who were sitting at tables nursing their drinks or smoking long pipes, and Tom the Barman was behind his bar cleaning the glasses with a cloth. He looked up when he saw Harry enter, but on noticing that the hood was covering his face, Tom returned to what he had been doing before Harry's arrival.

Harry did not say anything as he silently walked through the bar and headed out of the backdoor of the pub. He entered into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a dustbin and a few bags full of rubbish lying around. Pulling out the other wand, Harry counted the bricks – three up and two across – before tapping the right brick three times with the wand.

The brick he had touched quivered – it wriggled – in the middle, a small hole appeared – it grew wider and wider – a second later, he was facing a large archway that led to a cobbled street which twisted and turned out of sight.

The alley was a lot quieter that Harry ever remembered it to be. Though it was not completely empty, one could see that the news of Voldemort's return had affected the Wizarding populace and its economy. There were many shops that were boarded up, while some shops had customers who had their hoods up just like him. Everyone was scurrying around the alleys, not wanting to be recognized and wasting more time than necessary in the alley, afraid that Tommy Boy and his Moronic Minions would attack.

Harry quietly walked from the archway and continued to walk further into the alley. He was looking at the signboards of the shops and then looking at the windows, trying to discern if there was anything in the shops that could be of use to him. Most of the shops did not have much of the contents displayed in the windows as many of them had been blocked with wooden planks.

As Harry turned around a sharp corner of the Diagon Alley, he saw a signboard that said, "Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment". The sign was a bit faded, with dust on the corners, but the shop was obviously open, what with the large **'OPEN'** sign that could be seen from the inside of the glass door. The unblocked windows displaying various artifacts were another sign that the shop was open for business.

Curious as to what the shop sold, Harry entered Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment. The door had a door bell that jingled as Harry opened the door. Walking into the shop, he could see that it was a shop that sold various miscellaneous Wizarding items. There were a few used trunks lying around in one of the corner of the shop. Various shelves displayed an assortment of books; there was a small cabinet devoted to Sneakoscopes and there was a small, slightly furry drawstring pouch with a long string lying on a nearby shelf.

There were several large bins containing piles of crinkled cloaks, along with colorful pointed hats, crumpled work robes and thick, rugged winter robes of different sizes. There was a table where the sign said that several minimally-used, undamaged tents were on sale. On that table, Harry could see a few neatly packed and rolled-up tents that were lying next to each other.

There were several telescopes and hourglasses on display. A small section of the long table was laden with a few crystal balls and a pack of tarot cards that were used in Divination. Harry shuddered in revulsion and quickly moved away from that particular table, not wanting to be near the Divination items, a subject that could be considered a source of his current megalomaniac Dark Lord problems.

As Harry searched for the shop owner – who was not behind the counter – he was surprised when he heard a cheerful male voice suddenly say, "How may I help, good Sir?"

Quickly turning around, Harry spotted the speaker. The man was in his mid-forties, probably nearly fifty. He was nearly-bald with a few tufts of white hairs at the back. He could not be called fat, but he was certainly portly. Not all that tall, the man's shiny dome reached up to Harry's shoulders. He was wearing a fancy magenta robes that Harry had only ever seen Gilderoy Lockhart wear during his _'teaching career'_ at Hogwarts.

As Harry turned, the rotund man quickly greeted him in a jovial tone, "Greetings, good man! Welcome to my shop! The name's Damocles, Damocles Belby! And who might you be?"

Harry glanced around the shop with a critical eye but did not answer the man's question. Seeing his hood still up and finding no reply to his answer, Damocles seemed to take the hint that Harry did not wish to reveal his identity.

"Ah, no problem, Sir! I know how these times are," said Damocles, shaking his head sadly, "Everyone's in a hurry. This climate is very bad for business, very bad. No one's willing to get out of their house!"

Harry once again focused his attention on Belby as he said, "Its human nature, Sir, to be cautious during danger. Even wizards seem to understand that, which is good."

Damocles winced at the indirect insult to all wizards, but did not reply. Instead, he continued to speak in his cheery voice, "Please call me Damocles, or Mr. Belby, whichever you prefer."

Harry just nodded, but once again he did not answer. Damocles was unperturbed and continued, "Well, how can I help you this fine day, Sir?"

"What is the cost of a tent?" asked Harry, looking at the table where they were placed.

"Well, Sir, the cost of the tent depends on the internal size – meaning the number of rooms inside," explained Damocles, before adding, "The quality of the material used and the charms applied also affect the cost of the tent."

"How much would it cost me for a one man tent with the interior that includes a small bedroom, a kitchen, a sitting room and a store room? Will it be fully equipped?" asked Harry. "Also, I want it to be protected from all wild creatures – including humans – and from weather. Avoiding detection from magic scanning will also be beneficial."

"Well, that's one big demand!" laughed Damocles, though he was searching through the bundles of tents lying on the table. After a few minutes of searching, the only sound in the shop being the ruffling of the tent cloth as Damocles nearly dived into the pile, the pudgy man exclaimed out loudly _"AHA!"_

As the man emerged from the junk, Harry saw the man holding a folded-up tent in his hands that was the size of a backpack in its current form. It was black in color, made from some type of rough-and-tough material that Harry had never seen before. It looked like it had been used before now, but that did not bother him. As long as the tent was up to his degree of protection and perfection, even the interior furniture quality would not bother him.

"This, Sir," said Damocles, puffing his chest out proudly, "is one of the best tents you will find that'll fit your requirements. It has a small kitchen, an empty store room, a furnished bedroom, and a small sitting room."

The man paused for a few seconds to breathe before continuing, "It also has a few handy charms on it like the standard Muggle-Repelling Charms, the Creature-Repelling Charms, the Atmospheric Protection Charms, as well as a simpler version of the Anti-Detection Charms. It also has a weak Notice-Me-Not Ward on it, but it has to be keyed to the owner. We can see it right now because it has not been keyed to anyone."

"How much will it cost?" asked Harry curiously, finding the tent an interesting item.

"Well," said Damocles, hesitatingly, "it is not as cheap as it looks, as it is made from used Dragon-hide vests. And as it is somewhat furnished, that'll add to the cost. And if. . . "

"What if I want to buy it?" asked Harry, interrupting Belby, "How much will it cost me if I want to add some other essentials to the tent?"

The man paused, considering. "Well, without anything extra – as it is now – this will cost you 27 Galleons and 3 Sickles. Whatever you add will add to the cost."

Harry pondered over this bargain for a minute before answering, "That seems reasonable. So what extra items do you have for the tent?" Harry looked at the man questioningly.

Damocles grinned and rushed towards one of the shelves, calling over his shoulders for Harry to follow him. Harry followed the eager man calmly, while looking at the other junk cluttered all over the shop. His eyes wandered over the oddments without really looking at them. At the voice of Damocles, Harry once again returned his attention to the sop owner just in time to hear what he was saying.

". . . and then I've got this bed, with Cushioning Charms on the mattresses, along with a few chairs with the same charm," the man rambled on, "Then there's this table, a good sturdy one, used a lot, but still quite useable. I've even got a leather couch here somewhere in the back, I've got to look. . . "

Harry half-heartedly listened to the non-stop prattle until the man stopped to take a breath, and then he quickly interrupted before Damocles could forge ahead.

"Alright, I'd like that bed, the mattresses too," said Harry. "I'll take two chairs and that table, no need for that couch right now."

"That's all?" asked Damocles sadly.

"Well, this is just for me, isn't it? Just one person, not an entire group," said Harry, irritated.

"Oh, sorry," said the man, reddening slightly.

"Well, how much will the extras cost?"

"Um. . . " The man seemed to calculate out loud, and Harry could hear him mumbling to himself, "Well, the bed's for 3 Galleons, the chairs for 1 Galleon 8 Sickles, table is 2 Galleons 6 Sickles. 17 Sickles to a Galleon, so total. . . "

Finally, Damocles said out loud to Harry, "The final amount will be 34 Galleons, Sir."

Harry nodded as he reached into his school bag and drew out the money pouch containing Galleons. Counting, 34 of them in his hands, he laid them on the counter.

His eyes fell on the small furry pouch and he remembered that he had to get a Space-Expansion Charm on his duffle bag. Deciding to ask Damocles if he could perform the charm at a cost, Harry removed the other bag from within his school bag and laid it down on the counter. It was empty so the charm could be changed now.

When Damocles turned to the counter after putting the money in his pouch, his gaze shifted to the duffle bag and he gaped at it. Harry noticed this and enquired as to what the problem.

"Sir, this. . . this. . . " Damocles stuttered for a moment before continuing, "This bag is an antique piece, Sir. Not many of them are found nowadays, and mostly they are in showrooms."

Harry saw the greedy gleam in Belby's eyes and looked at the duffle bag thoughtfully. While the bag had been useful to him till now, it was not of much importance to him. Then there was the fact that the charms could fail anytime, causing destruction of the things inside of the bag, so it would not be much use to anyone else too. But if he could trade it. . .

Harry cleared his throat and Damocles looked up from greedily gazing at the bag. "Well, if you want, I'll sell it to you," said Harry carefully laying out his proposal, "But what will I get in return? As you said, this is after all an antique. If I sell it to the Goblins or a Museum, I'll get a good prize." In the end, Harry was smirking, even though Belby could not see him.

The man appeared conflicted, but he finally steeled himself and presented his end of the bargain. "Well, even though I run this shop, I'm a Potions Master," said Damocles, which surprised Harry. "If you want, I'll prepare any potions you want me to prepare for you, in exchange for this bag."

Though Harry was surprised, his mind was working in an overdrive. He knew that even though he now had Regulus's potion box, he could not prepare many of the rare and dangerous to make potions. So if he wanted to get them – and get them fresh – he would require the help of an experienced Potions Brewer. And here was a Potions Master who was offering his service for a simple duffle bag that was not of any use to Harry.

But Harry had another idea. With a glint in his emerald eyes, he turned to Damocles. "I have a better proposition. How about. . . if I find you more of such antique items, you will work for me and provide me with any potions I ask for 5 years?"

Damocles was shocked but he quickly composed himself and asked, "And how can you be sure that you can provide me with such antiques?"

Harry's smirked wizened as he replied, "I have access to a store room full of such old artifacts. I'll bring one of them to you every month and in return you will prepare the potions that I ask for. Do we have an accord? I'll take a magical binding oath for this."

Damocles seemed to think over the deal quietly for a few minutes before finally replying, "I agree." He held out his hand for shaking.

Harry took the offered hand and shook it. A bright blue light washed over the two of them and flashed for a second before vanishing.

"Take the bag," said Harry as he picked up the tent and put it in his own bag. "In return, I require a cauldron of Wolfsbane Potion ready before the next full moon."

The next full moon was in ten days, and he could send the potion to Remus and sell the rest to an apothecary.

Damocles just nodded silently, holding the duffle bag in his hand reverently. Apparently, Harry was mistaken that the bag was only a few decades old. But it appeared – from Belby's reaction – that it was probably much older and much more precious than he had initially assumed it to be. Oh well. . .

The man did not notice as Harry walked towards the exit. He did not notice as Harry opened a small cabinet and took out a Sneakoscope that was in better condition than the rest. The man was still stared at the antique bag in his hands as Harry picked up a few books from the shelves and left the store with a smirk on his face.

The only sign of Harry leaving the shop was the jingling of the door bell as it closed after his cloaked form.

* * *

A black cloaked man was moving through the nearly empty Diagon Alley without making much noise. The man was shoving a few books and a small sphere-like object inside a bag, which he shouldered after he finished with his work. He walked around the alley looking at the various shops curiously, stopping once in a while to spy inside the shop through the open glass windows.

As he was walking down the cobbled streets of the alley, the man spotted a newspaper lying on the ground. Picking it up, the man saw that it was today's paper and he unfolded it to peek at the news. When he read the front page article titled _**'Dead Body Found Near Borgin and Burkes'**_, he smirked as his eyes scanned the rest of the article quickly. Smiling in satisfaction, the man tossed the article in one corner before he continued on his path.

The man strode through the alley before finally stopping at a small gap between the shops. There was a twisted alleyway that was connected to the gap, but nothing could be seen due to the lack of sunlight in the place. There was a crooked signboard hanging over it that read :

**KNOCKTURN ALLEY**

**DO NOT ENTER**

For a moment, the man just looked at the sign before he snorted to himself and briskly walked into darkened space between the two shops. The darkness seemed to swallow the man as he walked further into the alley before disappearing from sight.

* * *

**» Next Chapter :** Harry made a sweet deal and now he finally enters the dark Knockturn Alley. What will happen now? What – or rather who – will he find in there? Watch out for the next chapter.

**»** To those who guessed the purpose of the Ancient Healing Device in this story, they are half-right. It is indeed linked with the Resurrection Stone. But the function of the RS is not the same here as it was in DH. Who can guess the function of the RS? (Hint : Think hard about what the Healing Device does.)

**»** Yes, Damocles Belby in this story is the same one from HBP. He invented the Wolfsbane Potion, and he will play a small but important part in this story.

**»** The pairing poll is soon going to be closed, so please vote for your favorite girls. Currently, Daphne is in the lead with Fleur in second place. The third place has been conquered by Tonks, who lags behind by just one vote. A tough competition between Hermione and Susan for the fourth. If there are any ties at the closing of the poll for the second spot (most likely between Tonks and Fleur), I'll have to make the tough choice of selecting one of them.

**»** Also, to the anonymous reviewer, I thank you for reading and loving my story. Also, I'm sorry to say, but it is rule that only members can vote in the polls. But in the event of a tie, I'll consider your two votes as the tiebreaker.

**»** The poll will be closing on 24th May, 2010. Then there will be a new poll, Readers! So keep reading and reviewing! A huge thank you to all those who have read and reviewed my story.

May your sword stay sharp!


	10. Knock Knock & Wheezes

**Harry Potter – Hunter**

**By : Andor Swiftblade**

**Disclaimer** : Harry Potter belongs to the beautiful blonde lady famously known as J K Rowling. No monetary gain is being made from this story. Any non-Canon characters belong to me. Certain creative terms which have been used probably belong to some of my brilliant fellow fan fiction authors. (I don't really know to whom, so please forgive me.)

**Summary** : After the DoM Mayhem, Harry decides that he is tired of the Dursleys and figures that he wants to take a unique summer job. Follow him as in his bid for freedom, he has the adventure of a lifetime. Post OotP. Probably AU. Might include crossovers.

* * *

_**Get advice of everybody whose advice is worth having – they are very few – and then do what you think best yourself.**_

* * *

_**Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven.**_

* * *

_**Never explain – your friends do not need it and your enemies will never believe you anyway.**_

* * *

_**Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.**_

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_**To succeed in any business, one has to believe that it is the best business in the world. One has to put their heart in the business and the business in their heart.**_

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_**Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste of death but once.**_

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*** * * * * Chapter 10 * * * * ***

***|* Knock Knock & Wheezes *|***

The cobbled streets of Knockturn Alley were not covered with dirt and grime, which was quite surprising. The place could not be considered clean at any rate, but it could also not be called dirty. The seedy streets were now busier than they had ever been before. This was all due to the return of the Dark Lord.

A person wearing a hooded cloak entered the alley and looked around for a moment. Not much could be discerned about the man, since he was not prominent, wearing plain black robes that every hardworking wizard wore.

Upon his entrance, the activity in the alleyway paused for a second, the shady dealers looking up from their work and gazing at the new arrival. The visibility was poor and the torches at random interval could not provide much light, and whatever light they provided just cast more shadows on the man. The dark individuals just shrugged it off and returned to their work.

Harry looked around the alley from within the confines of his hooded robe with curiosity. He had not seen much of the alley during his sudden and unintended visit during the beginning of his second year, and he had not entered the alley since then, even when he had the opportunity to visit it in his third year during the two weeks he had spent living at the Leaky Cauldron. But at that time he had been somewhat intimidated by the dark and dreary alley, and he also did not have any reason to visit it.

Looking around, Harry noticed that most of the walls in the alley had multiple cracks running all over them. Many of the roof tiles of shops were broken or missing, and they were covered with a lot of dust. Indeed, many of the surrounding shops were also not in good working conditions; most appeared as if a sudden gust of wind would topple them over. The only explanation of why the place was still standing, Harry concluded, was that it was held up with magic. And that could be very troublesome, because even the slightest disturbance in the magic supporting the structures would collapse the entire place.

As he walked around the twisting alleyway, Harry noticed that quite a few new shops had opened from what he remembered. The alley was crowded with many shops, and there were plenty of vendors displaying their goods on large trays.

From what he vaguely remembered of the alley, Harry suspected that Borgin and Burkes was nearby, though he was not much sure. Barely glancing at the disgusting things that the vendors were selling, Harry proceeded slowly into the alley. Harry knew that he could not peep through the windows, because unlike Diagon Alley, the windows in Knockturn Alley were covered with dirt and grime. Therefore, as he carefully treaded his path through the throng, his eyes swiftly drifted over the street signs above every shop.

'Shrunken Skull, what am I gonna do with that?' thought Harry as he read a sign, 'Though poisonous candles do have some merit. . . '

Not finding any interesting names, Harry decided that he should head to Borgin and Burkes. At the turning, he could see a sign indicating the way to the shop. Walking towards his new destination, Harry hoped that the shop would have something useful for him.

* * *

As the door of the shop open with a slight creak, Harry looked inside and noticed that Borgin was standing behind his counter polishing a golden plaque with a brush. On hearing the door being opened, Borgin looked up and noticed Harry standing outside, even though he did not know who the person wearing the black cloak was.

The man looked at him with jaundiced eyes, baleful eyes. Harry carefully surveyed the shop owner and the man measured the new arrival's threat. Neither said a word as both of them looked at each other, waiting for the other to begin the conversation. Finally, Borgin seemed to loose his patience. The shop owner put down the plaque he had been polishing and brushed off his robes, before putting on a fake smile on his face.

"Yes, what can I do for you?" asked Borgin in an oily voice. Harry was somewhat reminded of Snape when he heard Borgin.

"Well, Mr. Borgin, you could've started with introducing yourself," said Harry, and Borgin reddened somewhat at the insult. "But since you did not, neither will I. So without further ado, let's head to business."

Borgin straightened somewhat when he heard that, the prospect of finally getting his hands on some gold entering his mind. He looked at the stranger that had entered his shop, and wondered as to how much money he could swindle from the man.

"What are you looking for, Sir?" asked Borgin, his beady eyes shining with anticipation.

"I'm looking for an artifact that I've heard you're currently in possession of," said Harry.

"And what is that artifact," inquired Borgin, before quickly adding, "Sir."

"The artifact goes by the name of 'The Hand of Glory', and I'm certain that you know how it functions," said Harry as he smirked at Borgin.

The man seemed to smile as he looked at Harry, showing his yellow teeth. "Ah, yes, the Hand of Glory. It can hold a lamp or candle, and it gives light only to the user. Yes, yes, the best friend of thieves and plunderers, it is called. It was nearly sold some time ago, but as you might know, it is not a cheap item."

Harry nodded and simply asked, "How much?"

The man seemed to think for a bit, as he did not answer immediately. Inwardly, Borgin was wondering how much he should state the price as, because if the man knew the name of the rare item, then he would surely know its real price. And if the man perceived the high price as cheating, then he could leave without buying, which would be a loss for Borgin. So he decided to state a reasonable price that the stranger would agree with.

What Borgin did not – and would not - know was that Harry only knew the name of the thing and its properties, but not its price.

After a moment, Borgin finally replied, "I'm willing to sell the Hand at a very reasonable price of 50 Galleons."

Harry immediately countered, "No, that's too much. I will pay only 40 Galleons and not a Knut more."

Borgin thought for a few seconds before saying, "45 Galleons, and I'll also add in a No-melting Candle; those things are really rare."

Harry agreed to the bargain after a moments pause. Borgin happily went to the back of the shop to get the Hand and the candle, while Harry carefully counted 45 Galleons and placed them on the counter. Borgin quickly returned with the Hand of Glory in one hand and the No-melting Candle in the other. He placed both items on the counter and immediately started counting the pile of Galleons.

Harry picked up the candle and struck it into the Hand, and the Hand quickly gripped the candle tightly. Harry tested the Hand's grip and made sure the candle would not fall down. After that, he placed the artifact into his bag and headed towards the exit of the shop. As he was nearly outside, he heard Borgin call from inside.

"Please come again, Sir. It was pleasure doing business with you."

Harry did not turn back or reply as he left the shop.

* * *

As he made his way past the hags and dealers roaming the streets of Knockturn Alley, Harry was careful to avoid touching any of the disgusting things that they were carrying. Walking swiftly towards the exit of the Alley, he was glad to find the small gap between the streets, where the entrance/exit was located. Quickly getting out of the alley, Harry headed towards the post office, which was located somewhere near Gringotts.

The reason for this sudden visit to the post office was hidden inside his cloak pocket. It was a small sealed envelope which had a letter inside that was almost invaluable to Harry, because it could, in a sense, be considered his ticket to freedom.

The white marble walls of Gringotts could be seen, but Harry quickly walked past them and he immediately spotted his destination. The post office was larger than many of the shops in Diagon Alley, and the reason for that was clear – the entire premises of the PO was full of different types of owls. There were eagle owls, barn owls, hawk owls, and there were some other birds like pigeons and parrots. As Harry looked around and heard the cacophony of the birds, he just hoped that Hedwig never found out about this, because she would never forgive him.

As soon as Harry stepped into the PO, a shop assistant immediately came forward. "How can we help you, Sir?"

"I wish to send a mail," replied Harry.

"And where would you like to send it to?" inquired the assistant as he moved towards one of the tables of the PO, with Harry following him.

"Well, you see, I'd like the destination as well as the name of the receiver to remain a secret," said Harry as he glanced around.

"Ah, so you'd like to send a confidential courier, am I right, Sir?" asked the assistant, a smile on his face.

Harry was somewhat confused, and so decided to clarify his doubt. "Can you please differentiate between confidential courier and a normal mail? Because unfortunately, I do not know," he replied.

"No problem, Sir," said the assistant as he sat down, "Please have a seat and I'll explain."

"You see, a normal mail has the address of both the sender and the receiver, so it is easy for the owls to deliver. But in case of confidential courier, there are no addresses written on the envelope, so for that we have to use highly trained owls," the man said, then continued, "What you have to do is to whisper the destination to your mail owl thrice, and then if it nods, then you can give the letter to the owl and be safe in knowing that your letter will be delivered. Just so you know, these owls have never failed to deliver a letter."

"Well, I'm glad," Harry replied absentmindedly as he thought over what the assistant's words. As the assistant waited for his reply, Harry finally decided and said, "Well, I'd like to send a confidential courier. So what is the cost?"

"Well, Sir, as we do not know of the destination, we assume that it can be anywhere in the world, and so the cost is very high. And there is also the risk that the owl may not return, and since there are highly trained owls, we charge extra as insurance. And since. . . "

"Alright, now can you please tell me the cost?" Harry said loudly, and the assistant stopped his rant, looking sheepish.

"Uh, well, all confidential couriers have the same rate, even if your destination is your next door neighbor, or someone on the other side of the planet. We charge the standard rate of 7 Galleons for each delivery."

"Oh. . . " muttered Harry. The price was high, but so was the importance of the letter being delivered. So he had no other option but to go with this.

"Alright, I'd like to send my mail," said Harry as he got the envelope out.

"Wait a second and I'll get the owl, Sir," the assistant replied as he hurried to get hi work done. He returned in a minute with a brown eagle owl resting on his arm. He put the owl on the table and opened the drawer.

"Sir, we have a complimentary service for confidential couriers. You see, this bag," he held out what looked to be a thick paper bag, "is charmed to be waterproof, so your delivery will not be damaged in case of rain. And if the owl drops it by mistake – which has not happened till now - it will return to you. All you have to do is tap it with your wand."

Harry took the brown bag and placed his envelope into it. As soon as he removed his hand, the mouth of the bag sealed itself. Harry tapped the bag with his own wand, because in this case he was not really using magic.

The assistant took the bag from Harry and tied it to the harness on the owl's talons. He then tapped the harness and muttered a spell under his breath, which caused the owl to glow yellow for a moment. Then he said to Harry, "Sir, please take the owl near the exit and whisper the destination three times, clearly."

Harry did exactly that. The owl quickly took flight and soon disappeared over the roofs of Diagon Alley.

The assistant handed Harry a piece of parchment, and at Harry's inquiring look, he said, "When the letter is delivered, a green dot will appear on the parchment, and if the courier is lost, there will be a red dot on the parchment. To retrieve the courier, all you have to do is tap the red dot five times, and it will appear to you. Be sure to tap it with the same wand."

Harry simply nodded and took the parchment, tucking it inside his pocket. As he stood to leave, he remembered that he still had to pay. After giving the assistant 7 Galleons, he immediately left the PO.

As he walked down the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, he thought to himself, 'I wonder when I'll get a reply from the Guild.'

* * *

93, Diagon Alley; that was where Harry was currently heading. His business for today was finished, so he could at least visit the shop he had secretly funded. He remembered the address for the shop and as he headed there, he noticed that few of the shops had been boarded up. It seemed that the announcement of Voldemort's return had scared many customers as well as the shop owners away. He wondered how the twins' business was going on in such dark times.

The bright colors of the shop momentarily blinded Harry. The shop was very different from the neighboring shops, and it seemed that the twins wanted the point to be noted. The shop was crowded and many customers were entering and leaving the shop every minute. As he looked at the shop from afar, he saw a sign that made him want to break out in hysterics. A sign above the shop read :

_WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT YOU-KNOW-WHO?_

_WHEN YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT U-NO-POO_

_The constipation sensation that's gripping the nation!_

He nearly laughed out loud but controlled himself before he burst out laughing. He thought to himself as he looked at the sign again, 'I wonder what Tom would say when he sees that. . . '

As he entered the shop, Harry saw rows upon rows of products, some of which he knew about, and some of which he didn't. There were children at every shelf with their parents standing behind them, some of them looking at the joke items in stern disapproval while some joined their kids in the fun.

Harry walked to a nearby shelf and looked at the item on display. The name read : Decoy Detonator. He looked at the weird looking horn-like thing that sat on the shelf and thinking that they might be useful, he picked a few of them and placed them in the basket provided. As he continued to walk down the rows, he saw many items he had seen the twins demonstrate in the Common Room last year. Ton-Tongue Toffee, Canary Creams, Nosebleed Naughts, Skiving Snackboxes, and Puking Pastilles.

Harry picked up a box of each of them as he walked past. As he looked at some of the joke stuff, he heard the unmistakable voices of the Weasley twins coming from somewhere ahead of him. They were talking quietly and were mostly using hand signs to converse in the loud shop.

Harry quickly turned away before either of them saw him and recognized him. He knew that if either of them saw him now, he would be busted, even though he knew that the twins would never tell on him; but one can never be surer. So he turned around and headed towards the end of the row.

When he was sure that he had escaped the twins range, he took a note of his surrounding. The shelf before him had many boxes labeled 'Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder'.

'Man, this is awesome!' thought Harry excitedly as he looked at the many boxes. 'Combined with my Hand of Glory and Invisibility Cloak, this will certainly be very useful to me. Instant darkness, invisibility, and I will be the only one who can see! Amazing!'

Swiftly, Harry collected as many boxes as he could without being too noticeable. Deciding that he should get out of the place as quickly as possible, Harry hastened towards the counter.

As he took out the different items out of his basket, the cashier saw the amount of items and raised an eyebrow. "Why so many items?"

Harry just smiled his best smile and said in an excited voice, "I'm going to play a big prank."

'On everyone,' he added mentally with a smirk.

The cashier too smiled at this and began to make a list of the purchases. The final amount came to nearly 15 Galleons and 10 Sickles. Even though the price was quite a lot, Harry did not mind as this stuff could be very helpful in his future adventures. So without further ado, he removed the money pouch and paid the required amount. Quickly picking up the bag filled with his purchases, he made his way out of the shop, all the while stuffing the bag into his own expanded one.

As he walked, Harry noticed a familiar face entering the darkened gap between two shops that served as the entrance to Knockturn Alley. A familiar and much hated face that belonged to one Dolores Umbridge, the pink toad lady.

Harry frowned as he looked at the Under-Secretary to the Minister of Magic, the woman who had been his main tormentor last year. As he looked at Umbridge's toad-like face, he remembered all the things from last year. He remembered how she took delight in creating trouble for him and his friends, how she smiled that sick little smile when she made him write with the blood quill, how happy she looked at the idea of torturing him and killing him. And he remembered his bigotry, and how she had caused problems for most of the sentient magical creatures, labeling them as 'filthy half-breeds' as if they were not living creatures incapable of feeling emotions.

His temper began to quickly rise as the thoughts of such injustice being done to his and others festered in his mind. Knowing that losing his temper was not an option right now, Harry quickly calmed himself and thought as to what he should do. Should he return to Privet Drive, or should he follow Umbridge and see what she was up to?

He quickly made his mind up and headed towards Knockturn Alley, because this was not an opportunity to be lost. He had his chance of revenge and he was not going to let it get out of his hands. Pulling the hood of his cloak up, Harry entered the dark Knockturn Alley.

* * *

Dolores Umbridge was currently strutting through the dark alleyways of Knockturn Alley, heading to the place where she had asked her. . . associate to come and meet her. Walking as fast as her short, stocky legs could carry her, she reached her meeting point. Once reaching there, Umbridge noticed that her. . . associate had already arrived and was leaning against one of the nearby walls.

As she gazed upon the man, Dolores tried to hide the disgust she felt at the sight of the man. He was what she hated the most, and wanted to clear from the face of the earth. He and his kind were what she fought so vehemently against in the Ministry. Yet though she despised him, Dolores knew that the man would be essential in her mission. At the thought of her mission, Dolores smiled to herself. She would use the man to destroy his own kind. It was poetic.

Fenrir Greyback looked at the short, fat woman before him and bit back a snarl. She was one of his most hated enemies, and yet he was forced to work with her. But as soon as there was no further need of her services, he would tear her apart and feast on her flesh and blood with his brethren.

As the two enemies-turned-reluctant-allies faced each other, they never noticed the intruder that had crept up on them, invisible to their sight.

"Hem, hem," Umbridge cleared her throat, "Greetings, Greyback."

"Umbridge," Greyback replied, nodding and trying to be polite, even though a short growl escaped him.

"I have orders for you," said Umbridge in her shrill voice.

Greyback bit back a snarl and nodded. "Yes?"

"You are to attack a small village called Murex near Kent, which is where one of the agents of Dumbledore's Order lives," said Umbridge with a scowl, them continued with a smile, "Attack and kill everyone, from the brats to the old ones, leave none alive. Take the whole pack and make it as bloody as possible. And since it is near full moon, you will have some advantage. And make sure to kill the Order agent; that is the main reason behind the mission."

Greyback nodded before asking, "What house does this agent live in?"

Umbridge just smiled sweetly and said, "Some of My Lord's men will be marking the house. There will be a snake painted on the door. Make sure to attack that house first, before destroying others."

"Is this agent alone, or do they have a family?" asked Greyback, his eyes shining with anticipation at the thought of killing.

"Alone," replied Umbridge, "And remember, make it as bloody as possible. The entire point is to announce to the world the return of the Dark Lord."

* * *

**» Next Chapter : **A plot? Will it be successful, or will Harry save the day? How will he prevent this attack and save the entire village? Stay tuned to find out.

**» **It's been a month since I last updated, and I've got to say, it feels good to be back. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter.

**» **I don't know if a real village of Murex exists or not, I just made it up for the story.

**» **I'd like to thank all the reviewers for their comments, and I hope that you continue to review and give me ideas and advice.

May your sword stay sharp!


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